Where The Wild Things Are
by Quicklove202
Summary: AU. Being a hunter, Quinn Fabray pretty much detests all supernatural freaks and the werewolf she happens to cross paths with one night is no exception. With Unholy Trinity friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is just another one of those things I started ages ago, then forgot about, then decided to finish out of boredom. It's completely random and silly and AU but whatever. And yes, there's some Jacob/Quinn - ness because, yeah, if you haven't already known, I kind of write them _a lot_. **

**Anyways, read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

Unsurprisingly, her night so far is proving to be uneventful.

It's how almost _all_ of her nights start out and though she's actually been out here for quite some time, she knows it's only a matter of time before things _finally_ get interesting - it would just be wishful thinking for her not to.

For the most part everything around her is dormant, the exceptions being the crickets and the leaves that rustle in the wind. One would think the tranquility would be nice after a long, hard day (which, by the way, is still nowhere _near_ being over) but the monotony of it all coupled with her already less than vigilant state of mind just has her pining for her bed - the one she hasn't had the good fortune to take comfort in since she woke up this morning.

Getting frustrated from her own lethargy and overall lack of activity going on, she stops to thoroughly give her surroundings a scan.

If the supernatural beings of the world have _finally_ wised up to the fact that Lima is _not_ just another Midwest Podunk town they can take advantage of and are purposefully staying away from it, then she will be _pissed_.

Because, just as Rachel Berry needs applause to live, Quinn Fabray needs monster killing - and if she doesn't get her daily fix, then she gets twitchy and then it's this whole thing…

Wait a minute - did she just use _Berry_ as an example just now?

God she _must_ be tired if it's come down to that. She needs coffee _stat_. Shaking her head, she takes a moment to stretch out her arms and legs, which were still a little sore from Cheerios practice, then made even _sorer_ at training.

It's not an easy life she leads, being a vampire hunter and all, and while sometimes it's the bane of her existence, she wouldn't give it up for anything else in the world. Kicking ass, saving people's lives…it's an empowering feeling - one that not even Head Cheerio alone can give her.

She's been doing this for a while now and still no one (outside her inner circle, that is) would ever guess that she spent her free time chasing after creatures one would think only appeared in horror movies.

_If only_.

It just proves that the more innocent a person appears, the less suspecting of her people will be (and boy didn't that work in her favor a whopping one hundred percent of the time).

After all who would expect a girl who had the face of an angel (it isn't vain if it's true) and - when not in her cheerleading uniform - wore baby doll dresses and cardigans? A getup that, despite what Kurt thinks, is a look that totally works for her while at the same time sets her apart from the scantily clad young women (whores, _really_) of today.

And sure doing her job in a dress is more work for her but she takes pride in her ability of fighting off evil while simultaneously keeping her modesty intact (something which takes _real_ skill by the way).

It was a talent she was sure glad to have when she had to sprint across the school's football field after last year's Homecoming, decked out in her coronation dress and heels (not to mention her homecoming queen tiara) as she chased after two vampires who tried to attack a couple loitering in the student parking lot.

She didn't trip over her dress once and at the end of the night, the world had two less vampires in it. But more importantly she had her second consecutive homecoming queen tiara, and also a gift certificate for a free meal at Breadstix - but _that_ she used to barter with Santana in order to get the Latina to take over one of her patrols.

It's then that her cell phone starts to vibrate and without looking at screen, she answers the call, already slowing her pace just in case she suddenly needed to make a quick change in her route. "Pick up on something Santana?"

"_No_." Santana drawls out heavily, clearly sounding as bored and frustrated as Quinn felt. "Not a damn thing. The closest thing we got to getting any supernatural action around here was passing by a poster of the new _Paranormal Activity _movie down at the Cineplex. Britts and I be totes bored."

"That makes three of us," she sighs meanwhile still scoping out the woods around her. "but things usually take a turn for the supernatural when we least expect it."

"Yeah, but in the meantime Britt and I are losing are minds doing nothing but walking around town _over_ and _over_ again. Can we like, trade off for the rest of the night?"

"Sure." she says, shrugging carelessly. Whether it's patrolling _in_ town or in the woods on the _outskirts_ of town makes no difference to her. "See you in a few."

She hangs up without another word and pockets her phone, then turns around, completely unaffected by the fact that she was no longer alone. The undead are surprisingly heavy mouth breathers when they're looking to feed - which is ironic considering they technically don't even need to breathe, but whatever.

Without a second thought, she attacks and proceeds to go to town on the nameless walking corpse who was stupid enough to think she wasn't lethal.

His mistake.

* * *

To her dismay, it's a quick - but not unexpected - spar, (newbie vamps were never too skilled and made for easy kills) and before she knows it she's standing by the remains, watching over as the fire she set engulfed the body. The flames dance before her eyes in an entrancing way and she almost loses herself in them, but she's quick to regain her senses.

Taking her gaze off the fire, she leans down and thoroughly swipes at the dirt that had collected near the hem of her dress. Her mother had always told her, _a lady never engages in violence, _and while she too had always believed in that, her opinion on the matter quickly changed the first time a ravenous vampire came looking to make a meal out of her.

_No one _makes a meal out of Quinn Fabray.

Still bent over, she furtively hikes up her dress a little and slips her hand underneath before pulling out the gun she has strapped to her inner thigh (she likes to thank the movie _Miss Congeniality _for giving her the idea - if an undercover FBI agent can do it, then so can she).

Once it's locked and loaded she swiftly spins around and aims the firearm at her new target, whose presence she first caught onto while dealing with the vampire.

"If you haven't already noticed I don't take lightly to creeps attempting to sneak up on me."

The figure steps from out of the shadows and she holds her stance, ready to take fire at any given moment. He was huge, she vaguely notices, his frame all but dwarfing hers to the point where she felt like she was the size of a field mouse.

But make no mistake, she was nowhere _near_ intimidated by him.

After taking a quick scan of his face, she figures him to be of Native American descent and fleetingly, thinks that he's the handsomest werewolf she's come across yet.

Damnit, why is it always the good-looking people who end up being the supernatural freaks? Why can't the vampires, werewolves, and other weirdos ever be ugly, repulsive people?

It really wasn't fair.

"Easy there, Buffy." the werewolf says, his espresso eyes dancing in the firelight. He raises both hands in front of him as if it would actually make her back off.

After taking a second to roll her eyes, she gives a small huff and sends him a scathing glare because really, it's not as if she hasn't heard _that_ _one_ before.

And if it's one thing she hates it's getting compared to the fictional character on a semi-daily basis, which is why she shoots him the shoulder, just out of spite.

"Jesus Christ!" he bellows, clearly having been caught off guard by the sudden attack.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain." she admonishes automatically, then internally rolls her eyes again because honestly, what did he expect to happen? It wasn't like she was just going to pull out her gun and then _not_ use it.

She watches him pull out the wolfsbane infused bullet out of his shoulder before choosing to redirect her aim over his heart. Even if it wasn't a full moon tonight that didn't make him any less of a threat and attractive or not, he was still a dog that needed to be put down.

"You know you really shouldn't do that." he advises seriously, flicking away the bullet before redirecting his gaze. "You piss me off enough and you might just get hurt."

"Yes, I'm sure you're _very_ concerned for my well-being." she drawls, unintentionally rolling her eyes once more before pulling the trigger. Regardless of how cute this guy is she doesn't make small talk with her targets. Ever.

Unfortunately the werewolf is on guard and easily dodges it, and before she can fire another bullet he has her pinned beneath his hulking body with her gun now out of reach.

"You know that eye roll of yours seems to be magnetic to anything I say." he comments, effortlessly keeping her at bay while she's struggling against his hold like a rabid wildcat.

"Get the _hell_ off me!" she hisses, growing more infuriated by the second. "You egregiously _moronic _dog!"

"Such big words for such a small blonde." the werewolf teases, eyebrows raised. "I'm impressed."

She continues to squirm under his weight, not even bothering to dignify that with a response. _What the hell, _she mentally seethes. This guy was a lot stronger than the other werewolves she'd encountered before. The confusion must be evident on her face because the next time she dares to meet his gaze, he has this stupid knowing smirk on his face. "Haven't encountered too many Alphas then, have you blondie?"

_Oh for Pete's sake. _Where the hell are Santana and Brittany? With her luck they've probably resorted to having an impromptu make out session behind the Lima Freeze. It's their go-to activity when they have nothing better to do.

She is _so_ going to make their lives a living hell at practice tomorrow.

"What do you want?" she asks curtly, getting right to the point. In the back of her mind she knows it's kind of a stupid question for her to be asking, since werewolves usually opt to do one of two things to their victims.

Neither of which she will tolerate.

"And why were you watching me? Waiting to see if the vampire finished me off before you decided to make your move?"

"_Actually_," he says pointedly, loosening his grip just a tad (she still can't overpower him though) and meeting her gaze firmly. "I was in the area when I sensed a leech and human nearby. I immediately went to check things out and when I saw what was happening, I figured to wait until you really needed help. But by the looks of that corpse over there you didn't need it."

"Of course not." she scoffs. "I know you males automatically assume that _every_ girl is just a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued, but let me tell you something, _I_ am not one of them."

"Really?" His left brow quirks while his eyes show amusement. "Cause you sure you look like one right about now." he says, his gaze raking over her before shifting it back onto her face. "You're clearly a damsel. And by the way you're squirming and getting all flustered, you're clearly in _distress_."

"No thanks to you, you mongrel!" she snaps, scowling at his insolent smirk. "You weigh like a million pounds and you're crushing my ribs. I'm _suffocating_ here."

"Then I'll be sure to give you CPR when you pass out."

"I'd rather suffocate to death than have your dog lips touch mine for even a split second." she hisses, thrashing from side to side just in case he tries to get his lips anywhere closer hers.

"If you promise not to shoot me again or try and attack me in any other way," the werewolf begins with a heavy sigh,"I'll get off you."

"_Yeah_, right. How stupid do you think I am?" she snaps, though her arms are admittedly growing tired from fighting against Colossus' stupid iron clad grip.

This time the werewolf rolls _his_ eyes and the next thing she knows the big lug is rolling off her. She has half a mind to land a kick to his face but she doesn't want to risk being thrown under his mammoth heap again - he nearly crushed her lungs the last time.

Stupid dog.

As soon as she's back on her feet and clean of the dirt she had acquired while she had been _so _rudely straddled, the werewolf surprises her by handing her gun back to her…sans bullets.

"I'll be holding onto these if you don't mind." he says, lifting up the cartridge before tucking it in his back pocket. "Contrary to popular belief werewolves _don't_ like being shot at."

"Bite me." And with that, she turns on her heel, effectively whipping him in the chest with her hair, and storms off.

"Only if you want me to." She throws her head back and groans because being true to his nature, the dog is trailing behind her like a puppy.

_Go away_, she almost says, but instead it comes out as "Try it and I'll castrate you."

"The last thing I need is to turn into a blonde furball during the next full moon." she snaps, her gaze flickering toward him when she realizes he was walking along side her now. She abruptly stops and whips around after noticing, her eyes immediately narrowing with confusion. "And you're following me, _why?_"

The werewolf snorts. "Who says I'm following you? I happen to be going this way." He steps into her personal space and she involuntarily bristles by their sudden closeness. Despite that, she does nothing when he touches both her arms and gently turns her around so that she's facing in the adjacent direction. "You, however, initially came from _that_ way."

"Whatever." she shrugs away from his touch, ignoring the weird sensation it left her with, and continues on her way with her chin raised defiantly.

"See you around, Buff."

"Don't count on it." she returns without a second glance, jaw set. Next time they meet - _if_ they meet, that is - she'll be better prepared.

Maybe she could even talk Coach Sylvester into letting her borrow her bazooka….

* * *

It's when she emerges from the edge of the woods that she notices her red VW beetle parked on the side of the road. She instantly wonders how long it had been parked there and prays for Santana and Brittany's sake that they _just_ pulled up (because if she finds out they had been chilling in _her_ car this entire time while _she_ was left to deal with that stupid Alpha werewolf on her own, then she was _so_ leaving them to walk home).

As she nears her little red bug she lets out a small sigh of relief. Her windows aren't fogged up which means she can safely assume that no hanky-panky had been going on in there.

Maybe they had _finally_ gotten it through their heads that she was _not_ okay with them violating her backseat every chance they got.

She walks around the front of the car and waves fleetingly to Brittany after the blonde caught sight of her presence from the passenger side. Santana, who had been driving, gets out of her seat just as Quinn reaches the door, and climbs into the backseat.

"What took you guys so long?" she asks expectantly, slipping into her seat and closing the door along with her.

"We got distracted pelting acorns at the squirrels at the park." Brittany answers, taking her cell phone from out of her lap and tapping away at the screen. "We think they were possessed. See?"

As soon as she has her seatbelt clicked in place, she takes Brittany's phone and watches the video she recorded Santana assaulting innocent - completely _unpossessed_ - squirrels with a slingshot. She just shakes her head in response and hands the phone back to Brittany.

It's not the weirdest thing the two have done while out on patrol, hell it didn't even make the top 20.

"Why, what's up?" Santana inquires, no doubt picking up on Quinn's less than pleased vibe. "Something happen?"

"Not unless you count the werewolf I came across." she mutters, still reeling from the whole encounter. With heavy frustration she puts the car in drive and turns the car around, then recounts to them everything that had happened.

Near the end of it she's left with a splitting headache (she kind of started yelling at some parts), one that almost rivals the one she was stuck with when she came down from her 'Vitamin D' high after glee club's mash-up competition last year.

That whole debacle, by the way, and those so-called 'vitamins' left her, Santana, and Brittany, bouncing around all of western Ohio like zany cartoon monsters with a disturbing thirst for violence and supernatural bloodshed.

In theory it sounds comical - if you have a seriously dark and twisted sense of humor - though in reality it was anything _but_. Because the next thing she knows, she's waking up in some random corn field in Kentucky with Santana and Brittany, the three of them still wearing yellow Mash-up dresses (though by that point they were so soaked with dried vampire blood, that they were red) and with a dozen decaying vampire corpses surrounding them.

It was an incident that not only scarred them (they all now have matching tattoos that they _still _have no memory of getting) but also left Brittany with the sudden notion she was going to become a children's book author - because apparently their vampire hunting misadventures made for some epic storytelling material.

Quinn could still clearly picture the day that Brittany showed her and Santana her first draft of her book (which was written and illustrated entirely in crayon and drawn on colored construction paper). Sure the book ended up being a rip-off of that famous children's book, _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_, but she couldn't have been prouder of her best friend, especially considering the text was some of the best writing Brittany had ever done.

She managed to change the original text - _"If a hungry little traveler shows up at your house, you might want to give him a cookie. _

_If you give him a cookie, he's going to ask for a glass of milk."_

And turn it into - _"If your teacher's wife shows up at your school, she might want to give you 'Vitamin D.'_

_If you give the Unholy Trinity 'Vitamin D', they're going to go on a crazy awesome killing spree." _

(Not exactly the kind of material parents would want their children to be reading, but whatever, and kudos to Britt on getting that last sentence to rhyme).

"It was bizarre." she continues, the three of them still on the topic of her werewolf run-in. "He didn't even try to bite me or attack me or anything. Granted he did pounce on me but only because I shot at him twice…what kind of a werewolf does that?"

She's more or less talking to herself out loud at this point, not really looking to Santana or Brittany for any answers - since they probably wouldn't even have any to give (cause if she didn't have them, they certainly didn't).

She leans back against her seat and tiredly lifts one hand to run it through her hair. She's suddenly over talking about it. Nothing about that werewolf's behavior made any sense but she wasn't going to stress herself by trying to understand it - er, _him_.

"Sounds to me like the werewolf likes you, Quinn." Brittany says almost teasingly.

She has to suppress a shudder because honestly, she can not think of anything more repulsive.

"You know, Q," her gaze flickers to the rearview mirror where she sees Santana leaning back in her seat with her hands clasped behind her head, "considering you're _awesome_ track record with guys, you'll probably like, end up his mate or something."

The Latina starts cackling at the very idea and Quinn grimaces, because leave it to Santana to come up with something even more repulsive. _Shut up, Santana _is all she can fire back because it's too disconcerting of a thought for her to just brush off.

"Wolves mate for life, you know." Brittany says to her, smiling widely. "So if it ends up being true, you'll be just like his lobster."

"We _kill_ werewolves, guys." she sharply stresses as if they've suddenly forgotten. "We don't _mate_ with them."

"Me and Britt sure as hell don't." Santana responds flatly from the back, "but who knows, _you_ might change your tune one of these days." When she lifts her gaze to rearview mirror again she finds the Latina flashing her knowing smile.

"Like that will ever happen." she scoffs, her gaze dropping back to the road. She could feel her face start to burn and in response starts gripping the steering wheel just a little harder than necessary.

"My psychic Mexican third eye is telling me otherwise." Santana replies casually, the smirk _totally_ evident in her voice.

"And you know it's never wrong." Brittany adds, tapping the middle of her forehead and shaking her head.

"Can we please talk about something else, _anything_ else?" she asks, exasperated by the topic. She is _way_ too tired to be dealing with such…nonsense right now. _Her? The mate of a werewolf? When hell freezes over._

"Okay then," Santana leans forward in her seat. "why don't we talk about what the hell is becoming of our glee club? Everyone's hidden supernatural freakiness is like, all coming out of the woodwork."

"I mean, last week we find out Berry's a freakin' _banshee _and Finnocence, ugh, he dies and comes back more times than bad tv shows with cult followings do."

"He's like our Kenny." Brittany deadpans. "You know we should probably put him in a plastic bubble so he doesn't keep getting killed."

She looks over at the amused expressions of Santana and Quinn, before saying with a small shrug, "It's the least we could do considering it's kind of _our_ fault he always dies."

"Hey, it's not our fault Frankenteen's _always _at the wrong place at the wrong time." Santana counters, falling back against her seat. "Berry seriously needs to get him one of those kid leashes. You think they make those for teenagers? I'll google it."

Quinn's gaze falls back onto the road and within that same instant she's hitting the car brakes _hard_, the motion sending both Santana and Brittany jolting forward. "What the hell, Q?" Santana instantly demands, reaching down and picking her phone off the floor. "Trying to send Britt and me through the _window?_"

"Sorry guys." she apologizes quickly, "But we've got vampires at eleven o'clock." She jerks her head toward the shadowed figures lurking in and around the alleyway near Lima's one gay bar, _Scandals_.

"But my watch says it's half past one." Brittany frowns at the same time Santana exclaims, "Awesome!"

"Here I was thinking I wasn't going to get a chance to use these bad boys tonight." The Latina gleefully pulls her sai swords from out of her Cheerios letterman jacket and twirls them around in her hands like Elektra - who incidentally was the whole reason Santana bought them in the first place.

"_Elektra's badass and smoking hot." Santana says of the character after the three of them finished watching Daredevil for the first time. "She's like my twin - only whiter and with smaller boobs."_

_Quinn's brows knit together in confusion. "And your point is?"_

"_Getting a pair of sai swords will take my badass image to a whole new level." Santana returns, as if stating the obvious, "So you're gonna buy them for me, yeah? Okay cool, thanks."_

Quinn shakes her head at the memory and promptly gets out of the car, quickly running around to get their things out of the trunk. Santana and Brittany are by her side in heartbeat.

"Ooh, I want to use my nunchucks." Brittany exclaims, eyeing the weapons and automatically picking them out of Quinn's duffel bag.

"Brittany, just use your crossbow." she pleads after taking one look at how the taller blonde was already getting distracted with popping the bubble wrap around them.

(And yes, she had to put bubble wrap around Brittany's nunchucks because the blonde kept giving herself concussions whenever she attempted to use them).

"You're using these, Q." Santana declares while Quinn is rifling through her duffel bag. After she gathers a few stakes, she turns just in time to catch her prized possessions (katana swords) as they were being thrown at her. She usually only uses them for special occasions or when she's wearing clothes she's fine with never wearing again - seeing as how slicing and dicing her victims results in much more of a bloody mess than the standard stake to the heart does.

She glances down at her white cardigan and yellow sundress attire and for a moment hesitates, but then she looks back at the shining silver blades Santana's waving in front of her and she _just_ can't resist.

Because, if she's really being honest with herself, that frustrating werewolf encounter has totally left her in a _Kill Bill _kind of a mood.

* * *

It isn't until the last of their victims' remains are reduced to ash that the three of them finally emerge from the alleyway, still reveling in the adrenaline rush that came with battle and looking as though they were the last survivors of a horror movie.

"This blood is going to be hell to wash out." Quinn says, examining a lock of her own hair which was stained red, before dropping it and sweeping it over her shoulder without a second thought. "Oh well it was worth it."

"We are _so_ badass it's getting ridiculous." Santana says, shaking her head with a self-satisfied smile."We really should get like an award or something."

"Or our own Barbie dolls modeled after us." Brittany suggests happily. "Though I'd want them to be anatomically correct so the Brittany and Santana dolls could engage in sweet lady lovin' without having to go to the doctor's for corrective surgery. And Quinn, we'll make sure your doll gets lady parts too so she can have fun with G.I Joe."

Quinn chuckles despite herself and shakes her head - in her mind thanking God for putting someone as unique and _special_ as Brittany on this earth.

They continue toward her car and as they draw nearer to it, she can't help but think that she should really get a new one. Not that she doesn't love her car, because she does, it's just that it wasn't exactly the type of car a hunter wants to be seen driving around town in. Sure it went perfectly with the sweet and unassuming façade she has going for her but after a night of killing vampires she kind of would like to come back to something a little more _cool_.

"You know what I just realized?" Santana asks, her voice breaking Quinn out of her thoughts.

"Sour Patch Kids are just gummy bears on drugs?" Brittany throws out absently, twirling her nunchucks like she would a baton.

Wordlessly Santana moves ahead of Brittany and Quinn, then twirls around to face them. The two blondes automatically slow their pace. Santana lifts up her bloody sai swords and gestures to the two blondes to look at their own weapons. "Notice anything?"

Quinn drops her gaze to her swords just as Brittany's falls to hers and for a few seconds studies them all before lifting her gaze questionably. "Okay what are we supposed to notice exactly?"

"Seriously? How can you guys not see that we're like the living embodiments of three of the four _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_?" Santana exclaims with serious enthusiasm, making Quinn snort.

Santana could be such a nerd sometimes.

"Yeah, all we need is our Donatello and we'll be good to go." she drawls, playfully rolling her eyes in the process. Santana's eyes narrow in the same manner and she responds by sticking her tongue out.

"We could always ask Rachel." Brittany suggests, skipping back to the car, her swinging ponytail flicking blood droplets everywhere. "She's kind of like our unofficial member of the group anyways. And she'd make a cute Donnie."

"Over my dead body."

She doesn't care how many times Berry's so-called 'gift' has helped them in the past, she would never even consider inducting _that_ girl into their group - for any reason _whatsoever_.

"Britt," Santana starts in a gentler tone, ignoring Quinn's blatant opposition all together. "we're the Unholy _Trinity_. If we add another person we'll turn into a…a…."

Santana snaps her fingers and gestures to Quinn to fill in the word. "Quartet." she finishes, voice laced with heavy revulsion as she moves around her car to open the trunk.

"That doesn't sound hot at all." Brittany says, wrinkling her nose. "I change my mind. I don't want Rachel in our group anymore."

"Good. Now let's get going." Quinn says, closing the trunk once they've thrown their weapons in it. "All this dried blood is starting to make my skin itch."

Santana, after walking around to the passenger side of the car, waits until Quinn gets inside before turning to Brittany, and speaking in a low voice, asks, "Britt, you sensing what _I'm_ sensing?"

"Totally." Brittany nods, her hands stuffed in her pockets while she raises herself up onto her toes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "I can't believe Quinn didn't catch on."

This prompts Santana to cast a sidelong glance across the barely lit parking lot they were currently in. She watches the shadows for a brief moment before reverting her attention back to her best friend, with a small smirk on her lips.

"B, I have a feeling these next few weeks are going to be _pretty _interesting for our Q."

Brittany just nods her agreement and the two of them link pinkies for a moment before opening their respected doors and sliding into their seats.

* * *

The little red Volkswagen gradually fades from sight and when Jacob deems it at a safe enough distance, he steps out from under the shadows. He breathes out a heavy sigh and shakes his head, this night turning out _not_ at all like he would have expected.

Or _liked_.

Eventually he returns to the woods from which he came, all the while wondering how the hell he was going to get that girl - Quinn, was it? - to accept that they were now mates.

A fact that he himself had trouble processing.

Frowning thoughtfully, he eases his way through the trees despite the territory being relatively unfamiliar to him. His steps falter when he catches _her_ scent on the breeze, his wolf taking a moment to breathe in the aroma. In the same moment, though, he catches a whiff of vampire ashes wafting in after and with a wrinkle of his nose, he continues onward with arms tensed at his sides.

The two scents - that of one's mate and that of a leech - are not ones a wolf wants to come across simultaneously and though he has seen first hand that his girl was more than capable of taking care of herself (she was like _The Bride _against the vamps in that alleyway - which was both an impressive _and_ terrifying sight) he instinctively goes on edge.

And all because his wolf had to go and choose a temperamental teenage psycho Barbie ninja for his mate.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So I hadn't planned on continuing with this thing - the last chapter was just something I had written awhile ago and felt like finishing because I had nothing better to do at the time. And up until like, yesterday I had no ideas whatsoever for a second chapter, but during one of my very boring classes I got inspired (again out of boredom) and so this little continuation came about. **

**Anyways, read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

"_Let's bowl, let's bowl, lets…rock n' roll!" _

With her lips firmly pursed, Quinn does her best to focus on the lane in front of her and not on Brittany. It takes a couple moments but eventually she's able to drown out the other blonde's incessant singing and when she does she takes in a slow breath.

In one fluid movement she releases her green bowling ball and within a matter of seconds it collides with the pins (of course) but not with a number that's particularly pleasing - at least to her.

She exhales deeply before turning on her heel. "Brittany, you mind taking a break on that song?" she asks, flashing the other blonde a pointed stare on her way to the ball return. "You've been singing it nonstop since I picked you guys up and that was nearly an hour ago."

"You know it's her go-to song for when we go bowling, Q." Santana breezes, reaching across their table to pick up another slice of pizza.

"Regardless it's annoying and throwing me off my game."

"You say that every time we go bowling." Brittany points out with a slight frown.

"Not that that ever stops you." Santana smirks, playfully nudging the blonde's shoulder. Brittany smiles at her against the straw of her milkshake.

"It's a horrible song." she continues, turning and picking up her ball when she realized it had returned.

"Oh no doubt about it." Santana says around a cheesy mouthful. "But so is every single song in that damn movie. Which is why it sucked _so_ bad."

They are of course talking about the masterpiece that is _Grease 2_.

"Careful what you say, San." Brittany warns gently, interjecting before Quinn had the chance to voice her objection. She smiles teasingly. "You know how Quinn feels about _Cool Rider_."

"What? It's a good song." she defends curtly, her cheeks nevertheless flushing. She chooses to ignore Santana's snicker. "Not to mention the best number of the entire movie."

"Preach." Brittany says, leaning back in her chair and waving her hand in a very Artie-esque manner that makes both Quinn and Santana chuckle.

Santana nods. "I'll admit that, while _Grease 2 _has possibly _the_ worst soundtrack of a movie musical of all time, Michelle Pfeiffer is just _so_ hot that you can't help but watch it whenever it comes on tv." Taking a sip of her soda, she adds with a smirk, "I know I can't."

"We are all _well aware _of your obsession, Santana." Quinn replies, turning back round to face their lane, her ball at eye-level again.

Over her shoulder she hears Santana scoff just as she had released her ball. "You're one to talk, Q. _I'm_ not the one who dressed up as Stephanie Zinone for Halloween when we were thirteen and sang _Cool Rider _all night while doing the dance up and down the streets."

With an inward groan she spins around and glares at the self-satisfied smile playing across Santana's lips. "You are never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not in this lifetime." the Latina cackles, rising from her seat. "Now step aside, blondie. Let a pro show you how it's _really_ done."

She reluctantly does and makes her way back to their little table. As Santana starts her frame, she pulls their half-eaten pizza closer to herself and picks up a slice.

Normally carbs are a no-no (_especially_ on a weekday) but seeing as how it's one of those rare nights where they're able to slip in a little teenage normalcy in between their hectic schedules, she's casually dismissing the usual policy.

She'll burn off the calories later tonight on patrol anyways.

"Strike!" Santana announces triumphantly, her front already turned toward them even though her ball hadn't even collided with the pins yet. It's a few seconds before they hear the crash and both Quinn and Brittany lean to the side in order to see if she had in deed bowled a strike. To Quinn's chagrin she did.

"You know my psychic Mexican third eye is never wrong." Santana says with a casual raise of her shoulders, catching sight of her disappointed look.

Quinn levels her gaze with narrowed eyes. "Santana stop acting like that's a real thing. It's not."

The Latina merely sticks her tongue out before turning on her heel to retrieve her ball.

Brittany, on the other hand, takes the leftover Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza and pushes it toward her. "Here, Quinn, the more bacon you have in you the less crabby you are."

"Ain't that the truth." Santana mutters once she's done snickering. She waits for Quinn's scathing look and once she gets it, reverts her attention to the lane.

A few moments later she's sauntering back toward their table with a haughty smile, another strike under her belt.

Brittany pops out of her seat excitedly, as it was her turn again, and skips over to Santana to give her girlfriend a quick congratulatory kiss. "Good job, San!"

As ticked off as she is at Santana taking the lead, Quinn knows she still has plenty of chances to bowl her way back to the top - that is if Brittany can manage to refrain from singing that stupid _Grease 2 _song for once.

(She has the sinking feeling that Santana puts her up to it purposely just because she knows how it irritates her so much.)

Once she finishes her second slice of pizza, she resorts to just picking off the bacon and eating it - to save calories - while half watching Santana and Brittany flirt, half surveying their surroundings. No signs of the supernatural so far, she's pleased to note, just a dozen or so senior citizens partaking in their Wednesday night bowling league.

She says _so far _because every once and a while they'll come across those rare supernatural freaks (more often than not with big egos) who don't care if they make a scene or not, usually because they relish in making public displays of their conquests.

It's the cocky bastards like that really grate her last nerve because those situations almost always end in a public confrontation (whether they like it or not) which then results in Sue having to come in and either make witnesses sign binding legal documents to keep their mouths shut, blackmail them, or come up with a really convincing (not really) explanation.

Like the Rinky Dinks incident, for example, which resulted in a mass vampire slaying culminating in the middle of the roller rink (and all done on freakin' _skates_ by the way). Not to mention it was all inadvertently done to the Flashdance soundtrack which just happened to be playing over the sound system at the time.

_She's a maniac, maniac on the floor _- one couldn't find more appropriate lyrics for that night.

A night which ended with Sue having to tell some cock and bull story to the traumatized owners about how that they were just making a low budget horror movie and that it was all fake. But seeing as how the three of them were banned from the establishment thereafter, she figured the prospect of their business being featured in a movie was not enough to make up for the excessive property damage done to the place (which Sue refused to pay for, _as per usual_).

Not that being banned from a roller rink was a real devastation or anything - the place smelt like feet and burnt nacho cheese and it may or may not have given Brittany the clap at one point (or so she says).

Shaking her head, Quinn takes a second to glance at her phone for the time. She needs to be well rested for tomorrow's English test and since it is expected of them to clock in a certain number of hours on patrol each night (if not Coach Sylvester gets pissy) she figures they have another hour before they need to get going.

It's then, when she's putting her phone away, that her 'Spidey sense' starts tingling.

In that same moment her body tenses - a natural response - and her gaze flickers over to Santana. Judging by the way their eyes meet the Latina was also well aware of the sudden supernatural presence.

Wordlessly, she adjusts her posture and takes a subtle glance toward the entrance. Four hulking boys - er, men - had just walked into the place, all unmistakably werewolf. Much to her dismay, the Alpha she had the misfortune of encountering yesterday was among them.

Great. Just _great_.

"Dogs must have a death wish." Santana murmurs beside her. Quinn redirects her gaze and finds that Santana, being as impetuous as she is, was already sliding her hand down to her leg toward the gun she kept hidden in her boot.

She is quick to grab onto the Latina's wrist and with a slight shake of her head, holds her penetrating stare until Santana (reluctantly) relinquishes her hold on her gun.

The last thing she needs is Santana going all Annie Oakley on the joint.

"Your turn, Quinn." Brittany says, returning to the table with a little pep in her step. She nods and promptly rises from her seat, moving to take her turn.

At the ball return she takes the opportunity to sneak another look at the werewolves. They were currently splitting up, two of them walking up to the counter to retrieve shoes while the other two - including the Alpha - went in search of an open lane.

Her gaze must have lingered for too long because the next thing she knows, she's inadvertently catching _his_ attention and their eyes meet.

It takes seconds before she regains her good sense and averts her gaze. She mentally chastises herself for that - it shouldn't have taken _seconds_ - and picks up her ball in a huff.

She carries it over to the end of the alley, where her jaw sets when she notices out of the corner of her eye the wolves settling into the lane right next to theirs. As if there weren't a dozen other lanes they could have chosen from.

But she knows they're doing it purposely so she doest her best to push down the annoyance bubbling up inside her. It's a little difficult though because she can still clearly feel their - _his_ - eyes on her.

Inwardly shaking it off, she effectively slips on a mask of indifference and lifts her ball up to her chest, her eyes narrowed. To the average passer-by she just looks to be concentrating on her game but really she's assessing her situation and pondering possible strategies.

It's a Wednesday night so there isn't much a crowd but they're still at a public place and Sue would have their asses if they made _another_ scene. Not that she would ever pull a bonehead move like bringing out what weapons they had on them and start shooting up the place like a gang involved in a turf war. She's smarter than that.

Pushing aside that mental picture (she'll admit a small part of her is _actually_ tempted), she takes a deep breath and releases her ball down the lane. Her posture straightens when the collision is made. To her satisfaction it's a strike.

On her way to the ball return she catches a glimpse of her two companions. Santana's incessantly jiggling her foot over her knee, no doubt impatient for action (and throwing her a look with those eyes that basically says _I'm about ten seconds away from going all Chuck Norris on their asses_) while Brittany, on the other hand, may or may not be checking out the wolves.

Quinn just hopes for her sake she's not.

Waiting with crossed arms and ignoring the urge to sneak a glance _their_ way, she mulls over the possible outcomes the night could take.

If their Alpha was any indication, the wolves are smarter than they look which means that they know better than to attempt a straightforward public confrontation. One would think that was just common sense but aside from those egotistic ones who love to show off, she's come across a bumper crop of supernaturals who more often than not act on animalistic instinct rather than good judgment, especially werewolves.

She can already see the rest of the night playing out before her. The wolves will most likely bowl amongst themselves before one of them - likely to be their stupid Alpha - attempts to grab their attention, making small talk and whatnot. There will be some lighthearted flirting on their part (they're males, they won't be able to resist) and in response she and the girls will either play along or act disinterested (she hasn't decided yet; naturally she despises them but at the same time she just loves to lure people into a false sense of security whenever she can).

Eventually the three of them will call it a night and the wolves will of course decide to do the same, where then they will truly settle things outside - preferably in the alleyway out back to avoid being seen or heard.

The Unholy Trinity does their best work in back alleys after all.

….and yes she's completely aware of how much that statement makes them sound like prostitutes.

* * *

Having finished her turn with triumphant results, she saunters back to their table.

"I'm going to get refills." she announces once she realizes her cup was all but empty. As she starts gathering up all their cups, Santana places both her hands on the table and looks at her like she forgot about the pack of werewolves next to them. "Uh, Q? Game plan, por favor?"

"Ignore them and continue with our game." she answers simply, ignoring the way Santana's brows knit together in confusion. She proceeds to make her way up the two steps, only to get her arm tugged on at the last second.

"You know how infrequently we get time to ourselves, Santana." she sighs, reluctantly turning around. "I'm not going to let _them_ spoil our fun."

"So what? We're just gonna do _nothing_?" Santana questions, her voice laced with disbelief and anger. "You're _joking_, right?"

"What do you expect us to do?" she whispers, well aware that probably all of the wolves were listening in on them now. "Pounce on them in front of all these people then casually walk away from the bodies?"

Santana thinks about for a second before coming up with, "We could say that we're just undercover agents and that they're terrorists. They're dark. It's plausible."

"That's incredibly racist."

"I'm ethnic." Santana returns, pulling back with a careless shrug. "I can get away with it."

She just shakes her head and continues on toward the concession stand.

Quinn patiently waits at the counter and while their drinks are being refilled, her gaze occasionally flickers to the broken ice cream machine - it's been out of order since the early '90's - where she just happens to keep a few weapons of hers stored away in case of an emergency.

Being that their supernatural encounters usually happen when they least expect it she's found it practical to store weapons everywhere from Breadstix to the Lima Bean.

It definitely made being taken by surprise a lot less stressful and had definitely proved beneficial during the whole Rinky Dinks incident.

"Hey."

Her shoulders tense when she hears _him_ come up next to her. Her first instinct is to ignore him but she knows that won't do any good. "What do you want?" she asks curtly, her gaze unwavering from the worker currently filling up her drinks.

She, Santana, and Brittany have all rejected this guy's advances at some time or another and she likes to make sure he doesn't add anything 'special' to their drinks.

"Nothing. Just saying hi." he responds casually, bracing both hands against the counter. "You know I'm surprised you haven't shot at us yet what with your trigger finger and everything."

She shifts uncomfortably because he's awfully close to her and his stature still makes her feel like the size of a mouse. A feeling she hates by the way.

"Yeah like I would really start shooting at a bunch of miscreants in the middle of the _public_ place." she says sardonically, complete with eye roll.

"I knew that eye roll was magnetic."

She can practically hear the grin in his voice but she doesn't dare turn her head to see it for herself. "Don't you have a fire hydrant to urinate on somewhere?" she drawls, uninterested.

"Those dog jokes get old quick."

"Good thing I could care less about your opinion." Flashing a grateful smile to the counter guy, she takes back her drinks and whips around in a flourish.

But of course he can't leave the conversation at that.

"You know for someone who doesn't know me _or_ my pack," She's taken aback when he has the audacity to take one of her drinks out of her grasp. "you sure do hold a hell of a lot of hostility toward us."

"Of course I do." she says with an unapologetic scoff. "You guys are _werewolves_. Now if you please, return my drink to me before I -"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he interrupts, eyes narrowed.

Her brow furrows. "What?" Juggling the other two drinks in her hand, she reaches up to grab the one he took from her, only to have him lift it higher out of her reach. She huffs in frustration and impulsively punches his chest. "Jerk."

His eyes flicker with amusement before the seriousness returns to them. "You act like the simple fact that we're werewolves is reason enough for you to hate us."

"And your point being?" Quinn sighs, shifting her weight impatiently. She literally has to fight back the urge to roll her eyes again.

"Just because we are werewolves does not mean that we are the _bad _guys." he says, jaw set. His arms are tense, she notes, and if he puts anymore pressure on that cup on his hand her soda is going to get everywhere.

"Well you kind of are when you _kill_ people." she returns pointedly, deep down somewhat curious as to how riled up he can get before wolfing out.

"And who says I've ever killed anyone?" he demands, eyes blazing.

She'll never admit this out loud but he's rather attractive when he's fired up, she thinks. "So you're saying that you have _never_ killed anyone before?" she questions, eyebrow raised skeptically.

His fire fades though his eyes do narrow once again, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. He then shakes his head, as if to shake off a memory or image. The fact that his silence practically speaks volumes has her nodding smugly. "That's what I thought."

Her gaze flickers to where Santana was clearing watching them, brow raised with intrigue, and she decides right then and there to end this conversation. It's gone on far enough anyways.

"Oh, and like you've never killed anyone?" he exclaims, blocking her path when she tries to sidestep around him.

She levels her piercing gaze and meets his dead on. "Huge difference, dog boy. I kill monsters like _you_ in order to protect innocent people from _you_. Whereas _you_ -"

"The only things I kill are vampires and, if they have posed a threat to either me and my pack or innocent people, other wolves." he interjects gruffly. "Take note that my list does _not _include humans."

"It is a well known fact that during a full moon a werewolf's homicidal tendencies are at their peak." she says, reciting one of the _many_ details she has learned from Sue Sylvester since getting involved in this supernatural business. "And you honestly expect me to believe that you and your pack are the exceptions?" With her head cocked to the side, she gives him one of her looks. "_Please_."

"_Inexperienced_ wolves are the ones who are at the mercy of the full moon." he corrects. "They haven't yet learned to control themselves so they run rampant and let their wolf have free rein. Mature wolves, on the other hand, are able to control themselves through the force of will - _even_ during a full moon."

For someone so brutish looking he sure does talk a lot.

"Are you done yet?" she questions sharply. "Because I've got sodas here that are slowly getting watered down by the ice and I'd like to get back to my friends."

An amused smile spreads across his face but he doesn't answer so she takes that as her cue to leave.

_Whatever_.

She walks past him without another word, only to feel him grasp her elbow in that same movement. She spins around quickly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Do _not_ touch me."

"We should date." he says, his hand dropping from her elbow just as his other came up to hand her back her drink.

"_Excuse me?_"

Okay, this _has _to be her punishment for missing church last Sunday. It just has to.

"What I mean to say," he amends, no doubt taking in her dumbfounded expression, "is that I would like to take you out - on a date."

Automatically her eyes narrow with suspicion, her brow furrowing. "_Why?_"

Honestly what the hell kind of a werewolf asks a _hunter_ out on a date? A stupid one, that's what.

"Because I am attracted to you," he replies without any qualms whatsoever.

"You're a male that's a given." she sighs, shifting her feet again and nearly rolling her eyes in the process. She had yet to meet a guy impervious to her Fabray charm (not that she ever expected to - even Kurt was attracted to her on some level).

"- and I'm positive you are attracted to me."

She scoffs outright at that statement and when her gaze settles back onto him, she can't help but shake her head at the fact that he was being _serious_.

"So let me get this straight," she starts slowly, figuring it the best way to ensure her composure remains intact, "because you think we are attracted to each other you feel that we should _date_."

"Yes." he says, kind of looking at her quizzically.

Keeping that logic in mind she replies, "Well I'm attracted to bacon but I do not feel the need to date bacon."

He chuckles. "Well, that's good. Cause I'm pretty sure you dating bacon would raise some _serious_ questions concerning your mental health and maybe just get you on _My Strange Addiction_."

The corners of his lips quirk into a wry smile and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from doing the same. When she realizes this though the feeling quickly fades.

She really needs to walk away, she thinks, like _right_ now.

"Not the point -" she cuts off, meaning to refer to him by name only to remember that she still didn't know it. Not that she _needed_ to know it or anything. She's perfectly fine with referring to him as 'mongrel' or 'dog'.

Shaking her head, she continues, "The point is that you are seriously delusional if you think for even a second that I am even remotely attracted to you - which I am not."

"So that's a _no_…for now." he says, disregarding the fact that she had _clearly_ ended her involvement in the conversation by walking away just then.

"Yes," she responds promptly, keeping her shoulders squared and head held high. It isn't until she reaches the first step leading down to the lanes that she realizes what had actually been said where then she whips around and backtracks, "Wait, what? No. I mean, yes, it's a no, but there is no _for now_! It's _no_, end of story. That will never change. I will _never_ go out with you."

"We'll see about that."

Her glare deepens at the cocky little grin he's sporting and it takes her a couple seconds to come up with a scathing enough remark, but by then he's already returning to his pack and _that_ does it.

Without any hesitation she sets her drinks down on her way over to him. No one walks away from Quinn Fabray unscathed.

No one.

Which is why the second he turns back around, she punches him in the face with as much power as she can muster.

"I suggest if you don't want worse to happen to you that you pack up and leave town right now because I promise you I will _not_ be as lenient if I catch you in _my_ territory again." she retorts, her gaze unyielding even as she shakes out her hand.

Taking a step back, she subtly jerks her head to the side, indicating to Santana and Brittany that it was time to leave. Promptly the two pass in between her and the werewolf, where then she turns on her heel and follows suit with a defiant raise of her chin.

She isn't even completely out the door yet when she hears the wolves break out into a fit of laughter at their Alpha's expense.

"Jacob, man, what the hell it is with girls punching you in the face?" one of them chuckles loudly.

She lets the door fall closed behind her, a satisfied smile playing across her lips as she walks out into the night.

* * *

"I can't believe dog boy actually asked you out." Santana starts with a laugh, sliding into the passenger seat of her car.

Quinn fixes the Latina with a questioning look as she sticks her key in the ignition. "How did you even hear that?" she wonders. "You were way over -"

"I read lips." Santana interjects casually, pulling her seatbelt across her chest and buckling it in place. She settles into her seat and hoists her feet onto the dashboard, which Quinn promptly smacks her for.

Her brow still furrowed with skepticism, she asks, "Since when?"

Santana rolls her eyes and reluctantly relents. "Since like, _forever_." she replies, shrugging aloofly. "Now why pray tell did you say _no_ for?"

"Uh, because he's a _werewolf_, Santana." Quinn answers, shooting her a quizzical glance before pulling out of their parking spot.

"He looks like he'd be really good in bed." Brittany comments from the back seat.

Quinn makes a face while Santana (unsurprisingly) nods in agreement. "Yeah looking past his little furry problem, the guy's a total hottie and judging by the way his shirt clings to that chest, he's got a serious body to boot. Not to mention he's freakishly tall which means he probably has a huge -"

"Santana!" she exclaims, horrified.

"What?" Santana shrugs, brow furrowed. "It's about damn time you got your cherry popped." She could feel her eyes widen at her best friend's blatant subject change, especially about a matter so private.

Santana rolls her eyes and continues before she can even utter a response. "Oh come on, Q. Being a virgin when you're fifteen is cute but by now it's borderline pathetic. You needs to get up with the times and _finally_ get with the down and dirty. You're uptight enough as it is and the fact that you're denying yourself is driving me and Britts up the wall. Keep it up and we may just have to pop your cherry for you so you can mellow you the fuck out."

Her eyes narrow in contempt. "Santana you are _disgusting_." she returns, enunciating each word slowly.

"At times, _maybe_." Santana concedes with a nod. "But I don't think you realize how unbearable you can be sometimes."

"You know Quinn," Brittany starts, leaning forward as much as her seatbelt will allow. "Endorphins help with stress and a good way to release them into the body is through sexual stimulation."

She peers over her shoulder and stares blankly at the taller blonde. Sometimes she honestly doesn't understand the inner workings of Brittany's mind. The girl knows how endorphins work yet she still believes that the square root of four is rainbows? It's baffling.

"Okay, we're changing the subject now." she decides, her hand already reaching to turn on the radio.

"Besides don't act like you don't like him, Quinn." Santana smirks, shutting off the radio just as soon as she had taken her hand away. "Cause me and Britts know that you _so_ do."

"For the last time I do not like him!" she exclaims with heavy frustration, practically shouting it out to the universe. Honestly what was it going to take for them to get that through their heads?

"But why else would you have let him go again?" Brittany wonders, now resting her elbows against the backs of their seats.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she demands, probably with more severity than she had intended - for which Santana briefly glares at her for.

"Sweetie, you're merciless not merci_ful_." Santana retorts. "You don't ever let the enemy walk. And I mean like, _ever_." Reverting her attention to her nails, she adds wryly, "He's affecting you and you don't even realize it." Santana snorts.

Though her jaw tightens, Quinn doesn't say anything and decides to just focus on the road. She figures if she stays quiet long enough the subject will eventually be dropped.

"So, what are we telling Sue?" Santana brings up casually. "Cause I doubt she'll be pleased to learn that we just left a pack of werewolves to do their thing."

"I'll tell her the truth." she responds easily, though admittedly she was a little hesitant to bring up the matter to the woman. "We were outnumbered and it was too much of a risk to engage them."

Santana scoffs her disagreement and exchanges a sidelong glance with her. "You and I both know we could have taken them. Which means Coach _will_ know and when she finds out we didn't even _try_ to kick their ass, then she'll take it out on _us_. No me gusta."

"Well what do _you_ suggest we do, Santana?" she sighs tiredly, jaw tensing again. "_Lie_ to her? You know she can smell a lie from like a mile away. That will only piss her off even more."

Santana rolls her eyes. "I know that." she snaps. "I'm no idiot. What I meant was that we should probably tell her the truth."

Her eyebrow quirks. "Which is…?"

"That you're the mate to a freakin' werewolf." Santana replies, the 'duh' at the end totally implied.

She throws her head back and groans, resisting the urge to slam her face against the wheel. "Ugh. Not that again, Santana. _Please_."

"We all know that it's true, Q. And tonight just proved it. I mean the way you two were going at it…" Santana breathes out a low whistle and smirks over at her knowingly. "Talk about your sexual tension."

"Shut up Santana."

"Ironic how all these years we've been calling you the Alpha female, isn't it?" the Latina smirks, purposefully grating her last nerve.

"I said _shut up_, Santana." she repeats through gritted teeth, making sure to emphasize her words with her signature death glare. She was seriously _this_ close to hitting her.

"If and when you get pregnant with his litter of puppies I'll be taking your spot as Head Cheerio, by the way." Santana continues on, dismissing her pleas completely. "I doubt you'll be able to do a back handed spring when your stomach's the size of Octomom's."

"Quinn's having octopus puppies?" Brittany questions abruptly, excited. "_Ooh_, Quinn can I have one? _Please?"_

Just as she usually does when she doesn't know how to respond to something Brittany says, Quinn opts to simply shake her head and turn blankly back to the road.

* * *

She hates to admit it (no, she _really_ does) but Santana and Brittany somehow managed to get inside her head with all the whole werewolf mate nonsense they were blathering on about.

It was all she could think about for the rest of the night, even while fighting off two lowly vampires near the 7-eleven. She knew it couldn't be true, yet there she had been, needing Santana's aide because she was off her game - something which _never_ happened, not even on her worst days.

At least not until that stupid werewolf popped up into her life.

She does her best to reign in her frustration as she fumbles with getting her key into the front door's keyhole. It's late, she's both mentally and physically exhausted, and while she's done with patrol for the night, she still has a test to study for tomorrow.

Fortunately it pays to be one of Sue Sylvester's minions/Cheerios/secret supernatural hunters/ whatever you wanted to call them as she was able to get them extensions on assignments, rescheduled test dates, late passes - whatever they needed without question.

It's the least the woman could do - no really it is - since she had three teenage girls practically running themselves ragged chasing down monsters (and the occasional politician) on a daily basis.

But still she doesn't like to rely on this perk _all the time_.

As she quietly makes her way through her darkened house, she reluctantly comes to the conclusion that Santana was right. Letting the enemy walk away (not once but _twice_) was a _completely_ out of character thing for her to do. Not to mention incredibly stupid.

As Sue always told her _mercy is for the weak _and now, because of her perplexing lapse in judgment on _two _occasions she was no doubt perceived as weak in both the eyes of the pack of werewolves _and_ their Alpha.

Maybe after all these years of being immersed in the world of monsters and magic she's finally starting to lose her marbles. It wouldn't be that surprising considering she's seen and done things that would probably drive any sane person to seek the nearest sanitarium.

Either way Sue is going to kick her ass tomorrow when Quinn tells her what happened - or rather what _didn't_ happen - regardless of what reasoning she backs it up with. Though to be honest she's not exactly sure what that had been.

She likes to _think _she had perfectly good reasons for refraining from doing what she has done countless times before now she just feels like she's making excuses for some underlying reason that hasn't revealed itself yet.

Something which she is positive has _nothing_ to do with the fact that she was that Alpha werewolf's mate.

Because she's not. She's just _not_.

* * *

**AN: So, yeah. Reviews would be greatly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So yeah, instead of working on a school project I'm writing this while watching Glee (apparently Oxygen has glee marathons on Saturdays). Anyways, thanks to those who have reviewed and favorited and/or alerted it means a lot. **

**As always, read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

Quinn is in the deepest state of sleep when the shrill ringing of the school bell jerks her out of what had otherwise been a peaceful nap. The sudden movement has her chair teetering backward but she quickly replants her feet on the floor before it had the chance to succumb to gravity on her.

She releases a rather crude expletive right then, the sudden noise might as well having been a jackhammer to her skull. It's good to know her painkillers are completely ineffective against school bells.

Irritably she yanks her sunglasses and tosses them on the table in front of her. Both hands come up to cover her face and when she accidentally makes contact with her nose, she winces and pulls back.

Needless to say that during this morning's debriefing, Coach Sylvester hadn't taken the news too well that her head Cheerio had had a run-in with a werewolf pack and yet had no wolf hides for her to decorate her floors with.

The fact that Quinn had failed to mention her original run-in with the Alpha at the previous debriefing just pissed the woman off even more. (She had planned on not mentioning that night at all but Brittany inadvertently mentioned it.)

Which is why she is currently nursing a few bruised ribs and a broken nose - the woman having spent a majority of this morning's training session just blatantly kicking her ass. Not a whole lot of teaching had been involved.

Either way she's just thankful she had enough sense to omit certain details - last thing she needed was Coach knowing that the Alpha actually got the drop on her at one point - because if she hadn't the woman would have probably just taken a baseball bat to her kneecaps right then and there.

She winces again when the tardy bell rings and immediately reaches for her bag, specifically for more painkillers. As she rifles through it, she vaguely hears the classroom door being opened but doesn't think much of it. She already knows who it is.

"You look like shit."

Rolling her eyes, she pauses and turns to cast Santana an annoyed look. "Like I didn't already know that." Fleetingly she catches sight of the two cups of coffee in the Latina's hands.

"When did you two go out for coffee?" she asks, her gaze falling back to her purse. She relaxes when she triumphantly finds what she had been looking for.

"We didn't." Santana replies, walking forward and extending a hand out to her. "This is from the teacher's lounge."

She could feel herself pull a face but nonetheless she accepts the cup. Crappy coffee was better than no coffee at all.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany asks, walking around and hoisting herself up onto the edge of the table Quinn was at. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the taller blonde frown. "Your eyes look a little purplish."

"I've felt worse." she responds, popping two more pills in her mouth before washing them down with the coffee. She grimaces at the taste and sets the cup down on the table. "Hopefully I'll be fine by practice."

A perk of being vampire hunter - or at least one of _Sue's_ - is that she is able to heal at an abnormal rate. Most injuries, no matter how severe, are usually completely healed within a couple of hours and all thanks to a so-called 'flu shot' that Coach Sylvester once gave them during their first physical for Cheerios.

(Little had they known that it would both make them heal faster _and_ go up a bra size - neither of which she ever complained about).

Though she would admit to wishing that she was able to heal just a _little_ bit faster than she already did. If Coach Sylvester was going to use her as a human punching bag from time to time she was going to need faster results.

She had an image to maintain after all.

"If that's not karma for punching your new boo last night then I don't know what is." Santana speculates with a smirk, sitting up on of the other tables.

"Which by the way wasn't very nice." Brittany adds, giving her a disapproving shake of her head. "He's your lobster. You should give him kisses - not broken noses."

"Shut up, Santana." she snaps, ignoring Brittany and hearing the Latina snicker.

"So were you able to take your English test okay?" Brittany wonders as she takes another sip of her coffee.

She nods. "Yeah, thankfully I was able to stay awake long enough. But as soon as I was done though I made up some lame excuse to see the nurse then came straight here."

The empty classroom which they occupied on a regular basis was just one of the few classrooms that were part of the old science wing that was no longer in use aside from for storage purposes. Since the rooms were all but abandoned, they served as the perfect spot for them to hide the few necessary emergency weapons and a place where they could convene in private or get in some extra undisturbed shuteye whenever needed.

"What class are you two ditching?" she questions, reaching back into her bag for her phone in the process. "Or is it lunch already?" She wasn't quite sure how long she had asleep or how many classes she had missed - not that she was too concerned really.

"Spanish." Santana replies, shrugging off her Cheerios letterman's jacket and balling it up in her hands.

Quinn nods and puts her phone back after checking the time. Out of all her classes, she ditched Mr. Schuester's more often than not. It wasn't like she had a problem with him or the class itself, it was just that she led a hectic life and her time was precious.

She had countless better things to do than sit through an hour of learning a language she was already fluent in, like catching up on her sleep - something which she never seemed to get enough of - or doing homework.

It's her constant absent in his class that she figures is the reason why Mr. Schue doesn't care too much for her when it comes to glee - or Santana and Brittany for that matter - but then again it might just be the fact that they are Sue Sylvester's minions. A woman whose main goal in life is to make his life a living hell whenever possible.

Santana yawns loudly. "Wake me when it's lunch." she says tiredly, throwing her legs over the table and lying down across it. Her balled up letterman's jacket acts as her pillow.

As she pulls on her Cheerios eye mask over her eyes, Brittany pulls out her unicorn pillow pet from out of one of the cabinets behind them. "Me too, Quinn." she says, hopping on one of the tables and mimicking Santana's position. "Lunch is like the only class I'm not failing."

"Will do, Britt." she sighs, still beyond tired herself. Relaxing back in her seat, she slips her sunglasses back on (and yes, she's aware she is indoors but the room they're in has a ton of windows and even with the lights off it's still pretty bright). It doesn't take long before she's out like a light again.

But of course about an hour later she's rudely awaken by the damn bell again.

* * *

Quinn's in the middle of touching up her makeup when another knock comes to the door. All three of them pause for a moment, each silently wondering who it could be.

"It's probably Sue coming for round two, Q." Santana says first, finishing up redoing her high ponytail before hopping off the table. "And if she is I'm so filming it this time." she adds over her shoulder, smirking.

Quinn rolls her eyes and refocuses her attention on her reflection. She's pleased to see that the swelling on her nose has gone down but unfortunately the corners of her eyes still have a purplish tinge to them which means she'll need another layer of foundation.

"Ugh." Her eyes flicker to Santana who was peering through the small window on the door. She pulls back with a grimace. "It's Berry."

She shuts her compact with a snap, brow furrowing. "What does she want?"

"To Jew-guilt us into singing back up for her?" Santana retorts absently before snapping. "How the hell should I know?" She reluctantly yanks the door open and rolls her eyes when Rachel has the audacity to smile at her in greeting.

"Hello Santana."

"Bite me hobbit." she returns before walking away, leaving Rachel to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

"What do you want, Rachel?" Quinn asks tiredly. She knows it's technically the afternoon now but it's still _way_ too early to have to deal with the short diva. "Because I'm really in _no_ mood to hear about your relationship woes with Finn or how Mr. Schue is giving away your solos. _Again_."

She really wishes she knew how the hell they got to the point where the brunette suddenly thought it okay to think of them as _friends_. She really did.

Sighing to herself as Rachel (unsurprisingly) takes the fact that she's being spoken to as an invitation to enter the room, she moves onto smoothing out the wrinkles in her uniform.

"I just, well I saw you in English earlier, Quinn and you looked…" The brunette swallows hard at the warning glare she's being given and finishes meekly, "well, you know, not great."

"Getting your ass whooped will do that to you." Santana murmurs, earning another scathing glare from Quinn and a confused look from Rachel.

Rachel reverts her gaze, decidedly ignoring Santana's comment, and smiles kindly at her. "Anyways, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well, well, well….it finally happened, didn't it Berry?" Quinn sighs to herself again knowing well enough that this was going to be the start of yet another one of Santana's tangents. Though about what, she's about to find out.

"You've finally realized that Finnept is about as good a boyfriend as Casey Anthony is a mother and that your time would be much better wasted pursuing frigid Fabray over here. Congrats on _finally_ seeing the light Streisand - or rainbow, I should say."

Next to her, Brittany claps congratulatory while Rachel just has that blank expression on her face - the one that usually follows one of Santana's absurd and random (and usually daily) ramblings.

And though Quinn knows better than to pay any attention to said ramblings, she's been having a crap week and with her luck Rachel _would_ suddenly go gay for her.

Nauseated by the very idea, she pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes shutting momentarily. "Rachel, _please_ tell me you did not come here to put the moves on me. Cause as flattered as I am, I have enough on my plate as it is and I don't want to have to add being on the receiving end on one of your ill-fated infatuations to my stress."

"Wanky."

Rachel rolls her eyes just as Quinn does everything in her power to not do the same (last thing she needs is Berry calling them _twinsies_).

"I'm _not_ a lesbian." Rachel sighs, shaking her head again as she addresses the three of them. "I am with Finn and am _very_ much in love with him. I only came here out of concern for a fellow teammate," she briefly gestures to Quinn, "and _nothing_ more I assure you."

"Oh thank God."

She was already getting flashbacks of Rachel's obsessive crush on Mr. Schue last year. It was the only time she felt truly sympathetic for the guy - okay, aside from the brief moment she had after beheading his wife but the feeling quickly passed (as far as she was concerned he was better off; the woman was a complete psycho. And she meant that _literally_).

Anyways.

"I'm still not convinced." Santana says, gaze narrowed. "Being the closeted lesbian and judgmental bitch that I am, I have awesome gaydar. And you Barbra Junior are beeping off the charts." she pauses, then adds thoughtfully, "You know, now that I think about it Finnocence may not even be a real dude."

"You've slept with him before, Santana." Quinn reminds, sighing. Seriously how did she even come to ever associate with such absurd people?

"He could have had surgery." the Latina replies quickly before fixating her attention back on Rachel. "Besides, his boobs are twice the size of yours and he dresses in plaid like _every_ other day. Your so-called _he_ is really a _she_ and Finessa's your lesbian lover, isn't she? See, I knew it."

"I think Rachel's really the guy." Brittany speaks up, nodding. "She's like the second gayest man in all of Lima. She'd be ahead of Kurt if she had better fashion sense. Or any."

Santana takes this into consideration and nods, while Quinn looks Rachel up and down shaking her head slightly. "How someone with two dads gets away with walking out of the house dressed like _that_ is beyond me."

"Yeah, they must be the only flaming gays on the planet without any sense of style whatsoever if they let you commit such fashion suicide on a day to day basis." Santana comments, her expression mirroring the distaste of Quinn's. Her eyes narrow. "Seriously what is it with you and argyle?"

Rachel's hands fly to her hips in a huff. "Why is that you three _always_ have to gang up on me like this?" she demands, exasperated.

This time Quinn doesn't hesitate in rolling her eyes. "Honestly Rachel what do you expect, walking into the lion's den dressed like _that_?" She slides down from her perch and moves to gather up her things, completely over the conversation. It's lunch anyways and if she's going to survive the rest of the day she's going to need more than just Sue's Master Cleanse in her system.

"Now is there anything else you wanted or did you just come here to ensure all your back-up singers would be present for glee?" she questions, eyebrow raised.

"Well now that you mention it," Rachel tucks a loose strand behind her ear. "I - well we haven't really talked since you guys…"

"Found out you were a supernatural freak of nature?" Santana supplies with an insincere smile.

Rachel frowns. "Well you three aren't exactly what I'd call normal either." she murmurs, arms crossed self-consciously. "At least I don't spend my free time running around on _killing_ sprees."

Quinn's jaw tightens. "No, _you_ spend your free time in the safety of your own home making videos of yourself singing into a hairbrush and posting them on MySpace - which by the way _no one _even uses anymore," she sneers, now in full snark mode. "while the three of us spend our time running ourselves ragged to ensure the idiotic inhabitants of this God forsaken town don't get killed by supernatural homicidal something or others."

"You might want to think about that when you're bitchin' about how we're not pulling our weight in glee, hobbit." Santana piles on, flanking Quinn and looking equally displeased.

"And keep a tighter leash on that boyfriend of yours." Quinn says, brushing past the brunette without a second glance. "We're sick and tired of Finn getting himself killed every other week. It's annoying."

She _really_ wishes she could just put that boy in a plastic bubble or something. No truly. He may be her ex-boyfriend (and sure he wasn't that great of one) but every time that boy dies, she's not going to lie, it does something to her.

"Well if you just did your job right then he wouldn't be dying all the time." Rachel mumbles under her breath, prompting the three Cheerios to stop en route to the door and to slowly turn on their heels.

"What did you just say?" Quinn asks, eyebrow raised. Before Rachel can even utter a response she's starting back toward her. "It's not our job to keep constant tabs on your death magnet of a boyfriend. We have _all_ of Lima to protect on a _daily_ basis and contrary to popular belief this town is not _nearly_ as small as people think it is."

"If you three are in need of assistance I would be more than happy to offer my aid." Rachel suggests. "I've helped you guys in the past, albeit inadvertently, but still I could be a serious asset to your cause what with my newfound gift and all. Granted I don't know how to fight but could certainly learn. I'm a fast learner and I've read that learning fighting techniques is just like learning choreography and I've taken ballet lessons all my life so -"

Quinn rolls her eyes and sharply cuts her off before they're here all night. "Rachel, all you do is wail. All you've _ever_ done is wail - "

"It's what you do in glee ninety-nine percent of the time." Santana calmly interjects. "How the hell we all haven't gone deaf by now is beyond me."

Quinn nods. "The only difference now is that you sometimes do it because a person's about to die." she continues, "And when that happens - like we told you _before_ - you contact us and then we handle it from there. End of story."

"We're the _Unholy Trinity_, Berry." Santana reminds on her way out, following behind Quinn and Brittany. "It doesn't matter how much you want to be apart of the team - you will never be one of us."

* * *

Since becoming a hunter she'll admit to having broken her fair share of the commandments - _thou shalt not kill_ being the most recurring - and though she's never really worried about going to Hell when she dies (_hello_ she is doing all this for the greater good after all), tonight she can't help but wonder what will become of the girl currently bashing in the skulls of a bunch of deaf kids. And enjoying it.

In her defense they _are_ newly turned vampires and she is just doing her job but still, even she knows she's got to be a pretty fucked up person if she's able to slaughter the entire Haverbrook glee club, who just last year the New Directions were singing "Imagine" with in the choir room, and be perfectly okay with it.

Whipping around, she takes her baseball bat (appropriately named 'Dottie') and swings full force at the last bloodsucker, effectively breaking its neck and incapacitating it. She drives her stake into its heart a second later, and then does it again for good measure.

She pulls back and straightens her posture, brushing her hair out of her face. Looking around at the mess, she sighs.

Yeah, she'll most likely end up getting into Heaven based on a technicality.

—

Once the scene is cleared of all remains she continues about her patrol, aimlessly twirling her bat around like a baton as she walks. Now that she's fully recovered from this morning's beating she's back to being at the top of her game and damn if it didn't feel great.

When the time comes she diverts from her usual route and meanders through the residential areas. She goes down the block, passing by house by house until she reaches the one most familiar to her.

She'll admit it's a little awkward standing outside the house that now belongs to her ex-boyfriend (and his new stepbrother) in the middle of the night but whatever. It's not like she's a stalker or anything.

Cause she's not.

Anyways.

She knows she acts like she doesn't care about glee club but in reality she actually does. Probably more so than she'll ever dare to admit.

Yes, she's tormented all of glee's members on _several_ occasions throughout her high school career and yes, she may be known as the cold hearted bitch of the group but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel protective of them.

Which she honestly wishes she didn't because she already has enough on her plate as it is and adding _protecting glee club _to it is just makes her sound like such a sap. And if there's anything she can't have it's people thinking she's soft.

Anyhow it's better this way, she thinks, acting as the indifferent cheerleader when it comes to glee. The more distance she sets between herself and the ragtag bunch of misfit toys the less likely they'll find out her secret or inadvertently get caught in the crossfire. Or both.

Shaking her head, she hoists herself up onto one of the branches of the tree in Finn's backyard. Santana and Brittany don't even know she does this and she hopes to keep it that way because even though she chooses to believe it's not creepy that she's hanging out in a tree and checking in on Finn and Kurt, she knows all too well that those two (really Santana) will never let her live it down.

Okay, now that she thinks about it a little more, maybe things _aren't_ going exactly as she wanted. After all she's not even close to any of them (not really) and yet almost all of them have managed to have more than one near death experience in the past month alone. She's saved their asses so many times that she's starting to lose count and they couldn't be anymore clueless about it.

Either way at the end of the day she knows she's doing the right thing. She can only imagine how much more frequent these close calls would be if she actually _was_ friends with them.

Once she sees what she needed to see she gracefully hops down from her perch. Seeing as how Lima somehow manages to draw the supernatural into town like moths to a flame, every so often she takes time out of her patrol to ensure that every member of the New Directions (including Mr. Schue) are all where they're supposed to be. In the safety of their own homes and _far_ from supernatural harm.

Call her overprotective but she'll be damned if she ever has to attend one of those loser's funerals.

* * *

She's just returning from checking in on Puck and Mercedes - the former having just scarred with what he was doing in his bed at this hour _gross_ - when she has another vampire run-in near the homeless shelter.

As per usual she's kicking ass and enjoying it, fighting off three at once like a pro. Within seconds she's down to two and then within a couple more she's fighting one on one with the lug who seemingly had the most skill.

The bloodsucker is not that impressive and though she could have easily finished him off already, she chooses to drag things out for kicks because after this her shift is over and each night she likes to go out with a bang.

Though she kind of wished she hadn't when she sees a _fourth _bloodsucker being launched overhead from out of the corner of her eye. She quickly stakes the vampire she'd been dealing with and whips around, half expecting to see Santana or Brittany. Or Sue judging by the force used.

But no, who does she see standing there?

"You have _got_ to be kidding me." she groans, shaking her head. "Can't I go _one_ night without you stalking me?"

The bane of her existence steps forward and chuckles a deep throaty laugh. "Nice greeting for someone who just saved your life. If it hadn't been for me that leech would've come up behind you and snapped your neck before you could even process what happened." he briefly nods his head toward the decapitated body sprawled out across the ground. His gaze flickers back to her.

"What is it going to take for you to leave me the hell alone?" she snaps, annoyed instantly. "Seriously you are _asking _for a bullet to the head."

"Then why don't you?" he challenges, moving forward until he was practically in her bubble. "Because _believe me _there's no one who would want to see that more than I do."

Her eyebrow quirks, rightfully so. "Really? You're mocking me right now? Did I punch you so hard that you forgot what I told you the last time we saw each other or are you just stupid?"

"You know for someone so small you sure do hold a lot of hostility. You should really get checked out. I mean that can't be healthy. Your blood pressure must be through the roof."

She rolls her eyes. "I am _so_ not doing this tonight." Picking up her baseball bat, she whips around in a flourish and walks past him without another word.

"For a hunter you're being awfully lenient." he calls after her. "And here I was thinking this wouldn't affect you."

She reluctantly stops and slowly turns back around, sighing heavily. "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

He shrugs. "If you haven't already figured it out, you will eventually." he smirks, walking back up to her, then brushing past her.

Her jaw sets while her fist clenches around her baseball bat. She exhales calmly before following in his wake. Not that she wants to, of course, but the idiot just so happens to be heading in the direction she needs to be going.

"Who's the stalker now?" he questions over his shoulder, noticing her presence. "What, you like the view from back there or something?" he teases.

"Don't flatter yourself, dog. You just so happen to be going in the same direction that I am." she retorts, in the back of her mind wondering why the hell she hasn't used her bat on him yet. She could have broken his kneecaps already.

To better prove her point she picks up her pace so that she's no longer trailing him. "Hey, are you hungry?" he suddenly wonders, grabbing her wrist to slow her momentum.

Confused, she yanks her hand away. "What?"

"I said are you hungry?" he repeats, pulling back. "Because I know of this all night diner that happens to serve pretty awesome bacon cheeseburgers."

Okay, so her interest in the conversation _definitely_ goes up a few notches at the mention of 'bacon' but on the outside she's as indifferent as ever. "And?"

He laughs softly. "_And_ I clearly remember a psycho Barbie ninja telling me yesterday that she was attracted to bacon - which judging by the way your eyes lit up just now means that that was just putting it mildly."

Damn him.

"Shut up." she snaps, glaring at the grin playing across his lips. As of right now he has replaced Rachel as the most annoying person she's had the misfortune of knowing.

She resumes walking away, but to her annoyance he's still following her. "You do realize what it looks like when a huge guy dressed in black is walking behind a blonde innocent cheerleader, right?"

"Innocent?" he guffaws. "In an alternate universe, _maybe_. A great white shark has more innocence than you do."

Her eyes narrow. "Not really the way to go when you're trying to get a girl to go out with you, mongrel."

"I'm telling you right now, Fabray I don't give up easily, so -"

"Uh, _excuse me_?"

"What?" he stops and frowns. "Would you prefer I called you _Quinn_?"

Her eyes widen. "How the hell do you know my name?" she demands, taking a cautious step back.

He shrugs. "I have my sources."

"Okay I'm starting to think you are completely unaware of how creepy you are."

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then grabs her hand, taking her right when she was she was supposed to turn left. "You are _not_ one to talk, Xena warrior princess."

"If that's some kind of lesbian jab…" Wait, he's distracting her here. "And what the hell do you think you're doing?" She firmly stops and takes back her hand.

"Do that again and I'm taking this to your private parts." she says, pointing her baseball bat directly at him. "_Several times_."

He pushes it out of his face. "Don't act like a bacon cheeseburger doesn't sound like heaven about now." he smirks, casually dismissing her threat. "Besides it'll be on me."

She pulls back and regards him quietly, noting that she has probably taken one too many hits from Coach Sylvester because otherwise she would not even be considering this. "If I do this will you finally leave me alone?"

He nods. "If that's what you want, then yes."

"Fine." she relents, shaking her head. "But first I think it appropriate that I know your actual name. Though make no mistake that I will continue to call you _mongrel_ and/or _dog_ whenever I feel like it."

"Jacob." he answers, holding out his hand. "Jacob Black."

"Well Jacob Black," she says, ignoring his extended hand. "I'd say it's a pleasure but it isn't."

The corners of his lips twitch as he takes back his hand and she notices a hitch in his breathing, like he wants to laugh. "Likewise, Buffy."

She glares at him for that but after she takes her baseball bat to his shin she feels it mellow out into a smirk.

—

They're sitting in a booth, a basket of fries on the table in between them. She's quietly picking at her fries, impatiently waiting for the burger she ordered. She doesn't understand how they can be taking so long, as she and the mongrel are like this place's _only_ customers.

She also doesn't understand why they didn't wait to just bring out their fries _with_ their burgers, rather than before. It doesn't make sense.

Who the hell wants to eat their fries _without_ their burger?

"So…how'd you come to be a hunter?" Jacob questions, speaking up though she specifically told him to not talk to her.

Unwittingly she flashes back to the memory of her fourteen year-old self being kidnapped along side with Brittany and Santana and thrown on a private jet.

_The pillowcases are pulled off their heads and the three of them instinctively recoil at the sudden sight of Sue Sylvester in their faces. _

"_Ladies, get ready for the ride of your life." the woman greets, smiling maliciously. "You're about to board the Sue Sylvester express. Destination: Horror!"_

_They probably would have been a little more intimidated had Santana not pointed out, "But this is a plane." she says, looking around, eyes narrowed. "Not a train. And we're already on board."_

_Sue's smirk falls into a bit of a grimace but she doesn't let it sting more than that. "Irrelevant." She snaps her fingers and like magic they've all been rendered unconscious._

Personally Quinn thinks they were drugged but Sue denies ever doing so. Either way she woke up from that blackout and the next thing she knew she's in Okinawa, Japan forced to spend her summer training to be some kind of an supernatural assassin.

"I became a cheerleader." she answers simply, taking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. "What about you? Were you bitten or is it like genetic?"

"Unfortunately it's genetic for me." he replies, straightening slightly when he sees their waitress rounding the counter with their burgers. "I come from a long line of werewolves."

"How old are you anyways?" she questions, pulling her plate closer when their waitress leaves. "Twenty-five?"

She doesn't know where all the questions are coming from - she had wanted to get out of this dinner with the least amount of conversation exchanged as possible - but she figures she might as well use the information she gets out of them to her advantage.

"Nineteen, actually."

She lifts her gaze from her burger and pauses. "You're joking."

He shakes his head and takes a big bite out of his burger. She continues to stare at him in disbelief. "You look like you _eat_ nineteen year-olds for breakfast."

"That would be considered cannibalism." he chuckles around his mouthful, swallowing before adding, "Not to mention incredibly disturbing."

"I wouldn't put it past you." she says, hiding her smile behind her burger.

He scoffs lightheartedly. "Yeah well back at you. I don't call you psycho Barbie ninja for nothin'. No less than an hour ago you were beating the shit out of some poor deaf kids. I'm honestly surprised you didn't make a meal out of them afterward."

"They were vampires!" she exclaims, incredulous. "And…_ew_!" She wrinkles her nose up, disgusted. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me?" he repeats, amused. "What's wrong with _you_? You were totally _singing_ while bashing their skulls in! What kind of a hunter does that?"

Her cheeks flush. "_One_ that is in glee club." she retorts, her eyes cold again. "I've got to rehearse _sometime_. Besides it helps to control my breathing."

He shakes his head, staring at her blankly. "I don't know what's more disturbing, the fact that you _sing_ while killing your victims or the fact that you're in _glee club_."

"I don't do it _all the time_." she mumbles, narrowing her eyes at him. "And shut up. Eat your burger." she orders. "I'd like to get home before dawn."

He rolls his eyes and digs back into his food, but not before snagging a piece of bacon out of _her _burger.

He's just lucky there were in a place with witnesses otherwise she would have put her knife and fork to good use.

Cause _no one _steals her bacon.

—

"Just to be clear just because we had a quasi amicable dinner does not mean I have any intention of dating you." she informs him as the two of them draw nearer to her house.

After the diner she couldn't shake him off or keep him from walking her home, though she'll admit (never aloud of course) that he's not _that_ bad. For you know, being a weird man dog.

She feels something being slipped around her shoulders and instinctively she whips around, eyes wide. "What do you think you're doing?"

She quickly realizes that he had just been trying to put his jacket on her. "It's cold and you're not wearing a sweater or anything." he says, swiping the article off the ground and reattempting to give it to her.

"I'm fine." she retorts, pushing his jacket back into his chest. "I don't need nor want your chivalry."

He sighs but thankfully drops the subject. They walk in silence the rest of the way to her house.

When she steps up onto the porch, she slowly turns around to face Jacob. Even on the raised platform she still has to crane her neck just to look at him. "Thanks for the burger." she says reluctantly, managing a small smile.

He nods. "You're welcome."

A few moments of awkward silence pass and it's then that she decides to just end things herself and go inside. But before she can politely tell him to scram and get off her property, he's leaning down and the next thing she knows he's kissing her.

The kiss lasts for maybe a second or two, _three at the most _before she pulls away and slaps him across the face.

He chuckles painfully, wincing slightly as he rubs at his cheek. "Well it's not the worst reaction I've gotten out of a girl but it's up there."

She rolls her eyes and turns back around, ignoring the way her lips are tingling. Just as she unlocks the door he comes up behind her and presses his hand against the wood. She turns her head and her breath unwittingly hitches at their _very_ close proximity.

"Hit me all you want but I'm not going away that easily."

"What are you some kind of masochist?" she murmurs, her eyes flickering between his own and his lips (don't judge; she's only human).

He doesn't answer but he _does_ kiss her again. Okay, she'll admit she let that one last a _little_ bit longer than the first but it's not because she likes him or anything. Cause she doesn't.

"Stop doing that." she says breathlessly, pulling away again. She shakes her head, the fog slowly clearing and her good sense returning to her.

Oh God, what the hell is she doing?

He smiles and straightens his posture, slipping his jacket around her shoulders before walking away. "See you later, Buff."

She scowls and immediately shrugs off his jacket, balling it up then launching it after him. It hits him in the back and he stops, slowly turning around.

He stares at her questioningly before shaking his head and picking it up with a smirk. She returns the gesture, watching him go until he disappears from sight.

It eventually fades though when she realizes that she'd just had her first kiss in months and it was with a freakin' werewolf.

Something is _seriously_ wrong with her.

* * *

**AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: As always big thanks to those who reviewed, favorited, and/or alerted this story! It means a lot!**

**Read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

When she wakes up the following morning the first thing she notices is a certain leather jacket casually draped over her desk chair.

She doesn't know _how _she manages to catch sight of it so quickly (especially when she's still kind of in sleep mode) but she does and instead of having some kind of internal freakout - she _is_ staring at evidence that proves she'd had a visitor while she was sleeping after all - she just rolls her eyes. As if this kind of thing happens to her all the time.

Which it doesn't, by the way.

Flinging back her covers, she gets out of bed and sighs. Just goes to show how _not_ normal she is, she thinks, walking across her cold hardwood floor toward her desk. Of course she's known that for awhile now.

When she's close enough she snatches the jacket off her chair and shakes her head to herself. She _really_ needs to remember to lock her windows every night.

After casually examining it for a few moments (no idea why though) she, without thinking, brings his jacket closer to her face. Her eyes unwittingly close as she breathes in its comforting scent. She knows _comforting_ is kind of a weird way to describe a smell but it's the first thing that comes to mind. Well, _that_ and 'it surprisingly doesn't smell like dog'.

No, it has more of an earthy scent, she thinks, inhaling again, like the woods or something.

…_and_ what the hell is she doing?

Dropping the jacket as if it suddenly burst into flames on her, she promptly turns and runs into the bathroom, having just _completely_ freaked herself out.

Once the door is closed she leans against it, pausing for a moment to take in a few deep calming breaths. "I am not the mate of a werewolf." she murmurs to herself, slowly walking up to her mirror. "I am not the mate of a werewolf…"

Lifting her gaze, she stares resolutely at her own reflection. "I, Quinn Fabray, am _not_ the mate of a freaking _werewolf_."

—

"You, Quinn Fabray, are _so_ the mate of a freaking werewolf." Santana smirks, folding up from her hundredth sit-up of the morning.

She flops onto her back with a groan. "Santana you are _so_ not helping here."

Despite knowing better not to, she had decided to give the Latina the rundown on last night's events because, whether she likes it or not, Santana _is_ her best friend and over the years she's learned that keeping secrets from one another is pretty much futile.

"I still can't believe you let him kiss you."

She pushes herself upright with a scoff. "I didn't _let_ him kiss me. He ambushed me." She holds out her hand and pulls Santana to her feet. "And I slapped him for it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, and what did he do? Go for seconds."

"Well of course he did." she can't help but smirk, throwing her red workout towel over her shoulder. "What guy in their right mind wouldn't want to kiss _moi?_"

Santana scoffs. "Every gay in the world." she responds easily, following her toward the treadmills. "So what are you gonna to do? I mean, granted the guy's a hottie but he's still a dog." Her nose crinkles at a sudden thought. "He didn't try to hump your leg when you were making out, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, Santana." Shaking her head, she steps onto the nearest treadmill and programs it to her usual setting. "And as for what I'm going to do…" she sighs heavily, uncertain. "I haven't quite figured that out yet."

"Well killing him is out of the question." Santana says, the two of them walking in sync as their warm up. She turns her head and smirks. "Cause you've already proved you can't do that."

She shoots her a quick glare before reverting her attention forward.

"So how was it?" Santana asks, a moment later.

"How was _what?_" she sighs, picking up her pace a fraction. Unsurprisingly Santana does the same. They're competitive that way.

"Kissing him, _obviously_." the Latina retorts, her eyes rolling in the process. "Was it good or did it suck balls?"

_Probably the best kiss I've had in my life _- but of course she's not going to tell Santana that. "It was alright." she shrugs. "Not bad or anything."

She can feel Santana's gaze lingering on her so she, reluctantly, turns her head. "What?" she wonders, noticing the Latina's quirked eyebrow.

"You're _so_ lying."

"Am not." she snaps, instantly. "Downplaying, _maybe_." she concedes. "But not lying."

Santana doesn't say anything but she's got that knowing smile of hers which says more than words ever could. She could feel her eyes narrow in response. "Look just cause I shared a kiss or two with the guy doesn't mean I'm suddenly in love with him."

"Not _yet_." Santana corrects, smirking.

"Not ever." she retorts, picking up her pace again.

"You know you've never been one for delusion." Santana speculates, clearly amused with all this. "This whole thing must have you _really_ freaked."

Her jaw tightens momentarily. "You and I both know that nothing's been confirmed. And even if it was I would not be freaked. _I_ do not get freaked." she calmly reminds. "Freak outs are for the mentally unstable."

"But doesn't being delusional kind of mean you're mentally unstable on some level?" Santana questions aloud, then shakes her head, already dismissing it. "Whatever. Point is you and the dog boy are mates. And before you start denying," she adds, catching Quinn's look. "let me just say that judging by the way you two are around each other there is most _definitely_ some serious mojo jojo going on."

"Besides, I know you, Fabray. You would never in your right mind let a guy come within kissing distance of you if you didn't want him to. I've seen you shut down your boyfriends from _across the hall_."

She can't help but roll her eyes again - even if Santana is, on some level, kind of right. "Next time you see the mutt just straight up ask him what the fuck is going on." Santana continues, shrugging. "I mean, _I_ already know what is, but _you_ obviously need someone else to spell it out for you."

Quinn sighs. She knows well enough that she doesn't need anyone to spell out what's going on between her and the werewolf. Deep down, she knows the truth and while she may not know much about werewolves and their whole mating process (ugh, just _gross_) she can't deny what the universe is trying to tell her.

The thing is she just _really_ doesn't want to believe it.

The door to the Cheerio's training room opens in that moment and both Quinn and Santana turn their heads, half expecting to see Coach Sylvester. They instantly relax, though, when they see that it isn't her.

"Someone overslept this morning." Quinn speculates teasingly as a flustered Brittany comes rushing in.

"I got preoccupied in the sewers. Again." the other blonde answers, slightly breathless. "Kicking vampire butt."

At this, Santana - of course - immediately goes into overprotective best friend/girlfriend mode, demanding why Brittany hadn't called for reinforcements, overreacting and whatnot. Quinn, on the other hand, is much more lax - Brittany is a lot more lethal and capable than Santana sometimes gives her credit for.

She stops her machine and steps off it, then walks over to the two girls. "How many vamps Britt?" she inquires, interrupting Santana's fretting.

"Five." Brittany says, beaming proudly when Quinn high fives her. "And I didn't get a drop of blood on me." She spins around to further prove her point. "See?"

"Yeah, but Britt you should've called us so we could've helped you out." Santana says, her concern still evident.

"Kind of hard to make a call in the midst of fighting off vampires, Santana." Quinn sighs, her eyes rolling yet again. "I mean we're skilled but we're not _that_ skilled."

"Speak for yourself." Brittany deadpans; Santana cracks a smile at it. "I didn't have my phone on me." she explains, turning to her concerned girlfriend. "Lord Tubbington wanted to borrow it this morning so he could text his lady cat friend. Things are getting pretty serious between them."

Santana nods understandingly and pulls the blonde into a hug, sighing into her shoulder. "I just don't want anything to happen to you, Britt. You know I can't lose you."

"What is this some kind of after school special? Ugh. Gag me now."

Quinn turns around, unsurprised by the sudden addition to their conversation. Santana's eyes narrow in contempt as she takes in the form of the one and only Becky Jackson - or as they like to call her, _the nugget sized pain in their ass_. "What do you want, Jackson?" she sneers, reluctantly pulling away from Brittany.

Becky scoffs. "Coach wants you three in her office pronto." she informs, rolling her eyes as if to add _duh, why else would I be here?_

—

"I could really go for a breakfast burrito right about now." Brittany throws out absently, breaking the painful silence currently plaguing the room. The three of them have been sitting here in Coach Sylvester's office for a good five minutes now where said woman has done nothing but sit behind her desk and stare at them, looking visibly annoyed.

Quinn figures if Sue isn't going to get this ball rolling she might as well do it. "Is there something you wanted, Coach?" she asks, still unsure of the meaning behind the woman's silence. She knows that it can't be anything good though. "Santana and I already debriefed you on last night's patrol."

Sue doesn't say anything (surprise, surprise). Instead she pulls out a canister of Febreze from her desk drawer and aims it at her, index finger firmly pressed down on the nozzle. Quinn instantly turns her head when she's hit with a face full of deodorizing spray.

"What are you doing?" she splutters, coughing slightly. She waves her hand back and forth willing the chemicals to evaporate before she can inhale anymore.

"You three are stinking up my office." Sue enunciates slowly, turning her aim onto Santana and Brittany and holding it there. Quickly, though, it falls back onto Quinn. "But you especially,Q."

"What are you talking about?" she coughs, blinking heavily through the fumes. Yeah, Sue may or may not have just blinded her.

Sue rolls her eyes and reluctantly sets down the Febreze canister. "Tweedle-dumb over there smells like she just had a spa day in the sewers while horchata huge boobs here smells like she just got off work at a taco factory. But that's not the point - they always smell like that." Both Brittany and Santana frown deeply at this.

Sue reverts her attention onto Quinn, her piercing eyes dangerous slits. "You, on the other hand, don't always smell like you rolled around in a dog kennel. Care to explain why that is?"

Unwittingly, Quinn's eyes flicker for a second, shocked. She opens her mouth, having no ready response. "I-I -"

"That's enough backtalk." Sue orders, prompting Quinn to shut her mouth again. "Now. A little birdie told me that you spent your night fornicating with the enemy, Q. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Her face heats up, not willing up to bring up _that_ topic - especially not here and _certainly_ not now. "Look, Coach." Quinn starts, her tone firm and her game face set. "I can honestly say that I have _never_ fornicated with anyone in my _life_. Yes, I may have shared a kiss with a werewolf but _believe_ me I didn't-"

Sue shakes her head with disgust. "You know I have a strict no fraternizing with the enemy rule, Q. Does loyalty mean _nothing_ to you?" she questions, standing suddenly. Sue finds herself able to enjoy the sheer terror of others much more when she's standing over them.

Quinn opens her mouth to respond but Brittany chooses that moment to join the conversation, interrupting her. "But the wolf boy is Quinn's lobster." she says, in her usual, slightly flat tone. Quinn internally groans, head ducking slightly.

Sue snaps her fingers toward Santana, naturally looking for clarification. "Translate, Boobs McGee." she demands, her narrowed gaze unwavering from Brittany.

Santana reluctantly lifts her gaze from her nails and sighs heavily. "Apparently Quinn's like the mate to this Alpha werewolf we keep running into."

"You two are _so_ walking home." Quinn grits out to them both before snapping her attention back to Sue. "And for the record I am _not _the mate of a werewolf. I'm simply -"

"Oh, here we go again." Santana drawls, her eyes rolling. "She's in denial, Coach." she explains. "_Big_ time."

"_Nothing_ has been confirmed yet." Quinn retorts, throwing a brief glare the Latina's way. "For all we know-"

"Can I have permission to slap her? Please?" Santana asks, holding up her hand. "Cause I _seriously_ can't take anymore of this broken record crap."

"For Christ's sake would you people stop interrupting me?" Quinn exclaims, beyond frustrated. She doesn't even care that she just took the Lord's name in vain. "I am not a werewolf's mate. The only reason I haven't killed him is because…" she fumbles with her words for a second, "well, because I haven't found reason to. I mean it's not like he's harmed anyone or done any damage anywhere."

Oh God, is she really _defending_ him right now?

"Has Quinn Fabray gone soft?" Becky questions mockingly, having been standing off to the side this entire time.

"Shut it Jackson before I shut it for you." she snaps, giving the smaller Cheerio a withering look. It was undoubtedly her who had reported this information to Sue and next time she went out for patrol she was definitely going to have to remember to keep an eye out for the plucky little ewok. Maybe even set up a booby-trap or two to make things interesting (for her).

Sue leans back in her chair and grimaces. "Well I can't say that I'm all that surprised, Q. We all can't be as perfect as I am. Your faults were bound to show up eventually. Though I never thought being a werewolf's mate was going to be one of them. Nymphomaniac maybe."

Her eyes narrow questioningly, decidedly ignoring that nympho jab. "So you're not going to kick me off the team because of this, right?" she asks, still unsure. The last thing she needs is her whole career being flushed down the toilet just because of a stupid mongrel.

"Of course not." Sue says, waving a glib hand. "You're my best hunter and one of my best Cheerios. I'd be a fool to let your zoophilia get in the way of that."

"I don't have -"

"You know this little predicament might be a blessing in disguise for us." Sue continues, as if she hadn't noticed the interruption. She rises once more and walks over to her window. She peers out into the courtyard through the slats of the blinds. "Because as the almighty Sun Tzu once said '_keep your friends close and your enemies closer'."_

Quinn can't help but shift uncomfortably in her seat, her coach's words resonating loud and clear. Infiltrating glee club was one thing but to have to do the same with those werewolves? No thanks. She doesn't want anything to do with them _- especially_ their leader - and she most certainly doesn't want to spend her time pretending to befriend them in order to gain their trust.

"Can't we just leave them alone?" she sighs, prompting Sue to turn her attention back to them. "I mean, regardless of what my relationship is to their Alpha, I still want _nothing_ to do with any of them."

"Well if they bother you so much, Q, then I'll simply take care of them myself. God only knows my den could use some new animal pelts. I'm tired of walking over bears." Sue promptly snaps her fingers at Becky, who jumps to attention. "Becky go get your shotgun and your dog whistle. We're going huntin'."

"For Wabbits?" Brittany inquires, suddenly paying attention to the conversation again.

"Coach, don't!" she says, rising from her chair. When she realizes _just_ how fast she had reacted, her cheeks go a little flush. Damn it. "I mean it's not necessary." she amends, trying to regain a little composure (and her dignity). "I'll keep tabs on them for you. Make sure they don't do anything they shouldn't. Punish them appropriately if they do."

"Good."

She blinks - not expecting Sue to nod so agreeingly. The woman was like a Nazi with her rules and if they really wanted to get technical, yeah she kind of _had _been fraternizing with the enemy last night (Of course it wasn't by her choice - Jacob just didn't understand the concept of _leave me alone_) so for Sue to just brush it off like she did the Cheerio's abysmal grades was definitely out of the ordinary.

After all this is the same woman who beat the living daylights out of her for not taking care of the wolves like she should have and who once decided, on a whim, to blindfold her, Santana, Brittany, take them for a several hours long drive and desert them - telling them that if they failed to make it back to school before sunrise they would be demoted to the bottom of the pyramid.

A task which is kind of hard to accomplish when you're in _New Orleans _- a place, which apparently, is crawling with batshit crazy witches who either love or loathe Sue Sylvester.

But that's a story for another time.

"Now get back to training." Sue demands, looking to the three of them and snapping Quinn out of her thoughts. "Your presence is starting to bore me and I will not stand for it."

No one needs to be told twice so they start toward the door, with Santana eagerly leading the way. Quinn pauses by the door and calls out to Brittany who had gotten distracted by a spider near the window. She manages a small smile when the other blonde finally snaps out it and quickly scampers out of Coach's office. She sighs to herself, shaking her head as she follows after.

She's barely out the door when she hears Coach Sylvester call after them. "Remember if you don't get close to passing out you haven't worked hard enough!"

* * *

"Good job, ladies!" Quinn calls out to the squad, blindly clapping along to the beat of the band still playing out on the track.

Amped up Cheerios rush past her on their way into the locker room, cheering and hollering. It has nothing to do with the fact that their football team just won their game (ha, like that'd ever happen - hello, this _is_ McKinley) but rather the elaborate new routine they just showcased was (unsurprisingly) a huge hit.

Once everyone's inside she brings the door along with her until it closes. Slipping into HBIC mode, she gracefully enters the Cheerio's locker room and strides on through, her hands on hips. When she reaches the row of lockers where a majority of the girls change she promptly hops up onto the bench divider and blows out a whistle using her fingers.

After each performance she likes to give her team notes on what improvements need to be made for next time. And granted Sue does the same thing as soon as she gets back to the locker room (only in a louder, crueler manner and chairs may or may not be thrown in the process), she finds that if she talks the girls before Sue gets a hold of them, it better prepares them against her wrath of words.

It definitely helped to reduce the number of Sue-induced breakdowns.

"…and Kirsten you were wobbly up on your post. If I caught that you bet your ass Sue did so definitely work on your balance."

Luckily she finishes just in time for Sue to make her grand entrance, Becky trailing her like the lap dog that she is. Yelling ensues - of course - but it's relatively mild (to normal people it probably isn't even remotely categorized as that but, yeah) so the team just ducks their heads down and acts remorseful for not living up to Coach's impossible standards. They all know they'll be able to get out of here faster that way.

—

"So we're totally going to that party at Casey's right?" Santana asks, shouldering her duffel bag and closing her locker. She looks over at Quinn expectantly.

"Uh, no?" she responds, taking her own bag out of her locker and frowning. "We still have patrol to do, _remember_?"

Santana rolls her eyes, her arms crossing. "We can patrol _after_ we gets our party on for a while."

Her brow quirks. "And face Sue's wrath when she finds out we ditched patrol?" she questions, scoffing. She shuts her locker. "No thanks."

Santana follows her out of the empty locker room with Brittany not too far behind. "We won't be ditching, Q. Just delaying for a little while. C'mon we're the three most popular girls in school - we _have_ to be there. We're like, morally obligated to."

"You say that about _every_ party, Santana." she sighs, shaking her head. "Look, if you and Britt want desperately to go to this party I guess I can pull double duty for a few hours..."

"But we want you to go too." Brittany says, skipping forward and linking pinkies with Santana. "Two's a crowd but three is a _party_."

Santana turns her head toward the taller blonde. "I think you got that a little jumbled up, babe." she says gently.

"C'mon, Quinn." Brittany begs, reaching out and tugging on her Cheerios letterman's jacket. "We promise you'll have fun."

"It's no use, Britt." Santana says with a dramatic sigh. She places a consoling hand on the blonde's shoulder. "Q here would much rather start on patrol than party with us. No doubt so she can rendezvous with her new werewolf lover." she smirks, earning a glare from Quinn.

"Oh. Why didn't you just say so?" Brittany wonders, frowning curiously.

"I just don't want to get in trouble with Sue." she huffs, fishing for her car keys as they near the student parking lot. "This has _nothing_ to do with the mongrel."

"What has nothing to do with me?" a voice says from behind, and Quinn whips around so fast that her ponytail slaps Santana in the face. "Damn you, Fabray." the girl swears, hand flying to cover her eye. "Trying to blind me?"

"What are you doing here?" she demands, ignoring Santana entirely. She folds her arms across her chest, indicating that she was not pleased in the slightest to see Jacob or the ragtag bunch of wolf buddies he had with him.

He steps forward enabling her to see just how taut his muscles were underneath the fabric of his shirt. She ogles for about half a second. "Your football team sucks." he informs, chuckling slightly like he thinks he's being clever or something. "Like _really_ bad."

Santana rolls her eyes. "Tell us something we don't already know, Toto." she responds dryly, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her jacket.

"You actually went to the game?" Quinn asks, eyes narrowed, not so much in suspicion as in curiosity. "Why?"

"They had nothing better to do. Obviously." Santana answers, slightly bored as her eyes fit over each of the wolves. She smirks. "What - finally got tired of sniffing each other's butts?"

Jacob decidedly ignores her, his gaze flickering back to Quinn. "We happen to enjoy football and heard there was a game tonight." he says in response to her question.

"We definitely would've thought twice about going though if we had known the teams playing sucked ass." the wolf to Jacob's left adds, shaking his head. Like his Alpha he was freakishly tall but had more of a slender build to his body. "Total waste of time not to mention money."

The wolf to Jacob's right scoffs at that remark. "What are you griping about, dude? _I'm_ the one who paid, remember?" Though shorter than the previous wolf, this one had much more muscle.

The four of them all have the same cropped hair making them resemble some kind of cult. Or boy band.

"You guys were awesome though. Great halftime show." the fourth wolf pipes up, addressing her and the girls. With his gangly build and youthful face he looks the least threatening - though not to say that they were threatened by _any_ of them. They could totally kick their asses if it came down to it.

"You have the face of a baby." Brittany deadpans, definitely voicing what Quinn and Santana were both thinking - she does that a lot. "I feel like I should diaper you and give you a bottle."

Two of the wolves crack up at that comment while the baby-faced wolf just frowns - no doubt out of confusion on whether or not Brittany was being serious or just joking.

If only she was just joking. If only.

"Well if you didn't already guess this is my pack." Jacob speaks up, briefly gesturing to the three guys at his side. He first points to his left. "This is Embry." Then his right. "And Quil." He inclines his chin toward babyface, smirking. "And that's Seth. He's the youngest _clearly_."

Quinn shifts her weight and exhales deeply, reluctantly introducing her two best friends though she would much rather leave. "This is Santana and Brittany."

"So where you guys headed? Patrol?" Jacob asks, his gaze naturally falling back to her. She really wishes it didn't. It makes her uncomfortable and yet…

Shaking her head, she quickly squashes that thought before it can come to fruition.

"Actually we're going to a party." she replies boredly. "A _private_ one."

She makes sure to throw in that distinction because the last thing she wants is them thinking they can just tag along.

"Oh you mean the one being thrown by your cute teammate?" The one called Embry questions, smiling slightly. "Casey, right? We got an invite to her party actually."

"She definitely had the hots for Jake." Quil smirks, nudging Jacob in the ribs. The latter rolls his eyes and pushes him away.

Quinn can't help but do the same - roll her eyes, that is - which apparently Santana catches sight of. "Jealous, Q?" she whispers teasingly, leaning into her shoulder.

She doesn't even bother to dignify that with anything more than a glare.

"Great. So we can head over there together." Jacob proposes, nodding.

"Aren't you guys a little old to be going to a high school party?" Santana questions, eyes narrowing. "You're like twenty-five."

"We're nineteen, actually." The one called Quil speaks up. "Well except Seth - he's seventeen."

"Fantastic." she says, heavy on the sarcasm. "Now leave us alone would you? For once?" she snaps, turning on her heel and starting across the parking lot.

She's beyond sick and tired of these random werewolf run-ins. They were just like those targets in the virtual shooting ranges at the arcade, appearing out of nowhere; only difference is she can't shoot them down like she wants.

Stupid mongrel.

"I guess that's a _no_ to going together." Jacob assumes, unfazed by Quinn's moody exit. He shrugs a second later. "Oh well, we'll just see you guys there." he says to Santana and Brittany who were already half turned to follow in her footsteps.

Santana scoffs back at him, eyebrow quirked. "Can you say stalker much?"

"Stalker much." Brittany answers, smiling. Santana can't help but return the gesture and she links pinkies with her; the two of them then continuing on their way, completely forgetting about the lingering presence of the wolves.

—

"I can't believe we're doing this." Quinn says through gritted teeth, marching up the front steps to the only house on the block flooded with teenagers and obnoxiously loud techno music.

"Hey you're the one who said we were going to Casey's party." Santana reminds, half a step behind her along with Brittany.

"I only brought this stupid party up in front of the dogs because I thought if I didn't they would just end up following us out on patrol or something." she says, frustrated. Shaking her head, she huffs. "This is all your fault."

Santana raises her shoulders innocently, crossing the house's threshold. "What can I say? Seeing lover boy grate your nerves down to a nub is just too entertaining a spectacle to ever have to miss out on. Besides whatever goes down between you two at this party will most definitely be more interesting than anything that's bound to happen on patrol."

"Also, it's not my fault you have an unhealthy obsession with pork that is just _so_ easy to exploit."

"If you were really my friend you wouldn't have preyed on my weakness to get what you want." she glares, meanwhile flashing back to their conversation in the car that took place not fifteen minutes ago.

"_Look, if we go to this party I promise I will personally bring you a BLT sandwich or bacon cheeseburger or any other bacon containing food for lunch everyday until I croak."_

_Quinn sighs, slightly annoyed. Whether she likes it or not when it comes to bacon, no matter what the circumstances, she just can't say no. It's like her kryptonite. _

_And the bitch totally knows it._

_Her eyes narrow into a scathing glare. "I hate you."_

"_I'll take that as a 'yes'." Santana smirks, leaning back in her seat triumphantly when Quinn takes the turn toward Casey's house._

"I can't believe Casey invited them." Quinn murmurs to herself, the crowd parting like the Red Sea for her as she makes her way down the hall. "The whore. She is _so_ going to pay come Monday's practice."

Santana leans in toward Brittany as they follow in Quinn's wake. "Another girl tries to stake a claim on her man and le bitch rises." she snickers.

Brittany frowns. "San, you know I can't speak French." she says softly.

—

So, yeah, she's not _totally_ surprised that Santana and Brittany had ditched her within ten minutes of their arrival but that doesn't mean she hadn't expected better. She knows she's not exactly what you'd call a 'party' person but still, _they're_ the ones who insisted she come along, the least they could have done was at least _attempt_ to hang around for awhile.

Besides, what the happened to all that nonsense Santana was spouting about her wanting to be there to watch her and Jacob go at it? Whatever. Just goes to show how fickle the girl was.

Shaking her head, she sighs to herself and using her pocket knife, continues to fashion a stake out of a fallen tree branch she had picked up. As a vampire hunter one can never have too many stakes and seeing as how she currently has nothing better to do…

She hears the door to the bedroom open and involuntarily she turns her head, half expecting two intoxicated teenagers to come stumbling through in search of an unoccupied bed. But to her dismay it isn't - though not to say she was disappointed at not witnessing such a spectacle (cause _ew_). Instead it's just the lone Alpha wolf.

She really should have thought to lock the door.

"Hey." he greets, closing the door behind him and walking over to the open window. (Did she mention she was hanging out on the roof?).

"Hi." she echoes, reluctantly, before turning back around to resume what she was doing. In a perfect world he would take this as a sign to scram, but of course this is reality so that doesn't happen.

"What are you doing up here?" he wonders, stepping through the window and carefully shuffling down the side of the house toward where she was sitting. "Here I got you something."

Out of the corner of her eye she sees some type of bottle being offered to her but she doesn't pay it any close attention. "I don't drink." she murmurs.

"It's lemonade." he says, his hand still extended. "Snapple, actually."

Her gaze flickers and grudgingly, she takes the bottle. "Thanks." she says dryly. She sets it in between her legs while fleetingly noting that the plastic seal hasn't been tampered with - ruling out the possibility that he had added anything to it.

Regardless she still doesn't plan on drinking it.

"Cute uniform by the way." he says, settling down beside her. "Almost makes you look normal."

Her eyebrow quirks unwittingly. "_Almost?_" she repeats.

"The stake and knife in your hands kind of defeat the picture." he nods, smirking against the rim of his drink.

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "What do you want Jacob?" she asks, really in no mood for small talk. When she finally allows her gaze to meet his she can't help but notice that his eyebrows had lifted. "What?" she questions, brow furrowed.

"You actually called me by my name." he says, surprised. "That's gotta be a first."

"Oh." she falters for a second, then quickly dismisses it. "Yeah, well don't get used to it. So what are you doing here?"

He chuckles. "Just trying to have some fun." he responds, looking ahead. "The guys need to let loose every once in a while. You know, mingle."

"I meant here in _Lima_." she corrects, pocketing her knife. "You guys obviously aren't from around here and I want to know why you're here in _my_ town and why you won't leave."

"Trying to track down the bloodsucker who killed my best friend." he retorts, his tone surprisingly serious for once.

She stops twirling her new stake around in her hand, caught off guard by that remark. She doesn't know what else to say aside from the habitual "I'm sorry."

He gives a small shrug, taking another sip from his drink. "As for why we haven't left, well," he pauses, his gaze reverting back to her. "I think you already know the answer to that."

"So it is true then." she murmurs, sighing softly. Not that she's surprised or anything. "We are…" she gestures between them, not willing to say it aloud.

He nods, his gaze flickering away. "We're…connected. Yeah." If she didn't know any better she would say he was about as excited about all this happening as she was.

"And there's no getting rid of it?" she questions, even though she pretty much knows the answer already. Still, it doesn't hurt to ask.

"Irreversible, sorry." he mutters regrettably, his head shaking slightly.

"Yeah, well…" she exhales, shrugging as her words drift off. She picks up her drink and twists off the cap, then takes a small sip.

"No, I mean it." he says, this time around sounding more sincere. She can feel his eyes on her again but she stubbornly keeps her attention fixated on the boisterous backyard down below. Even from up here she can make out the familiar faces.

"I am sorry. Believe me when I say I didn't want this to happen anymore than you did." He averts his gaze; his hands clenching. "I was doing _just_ fine without a mate and sure as hell wasn't looking to find one any time soon." He throws his head back, up to the sky, scoffing bitterly. "The universe just has it out for me I guess."

"You and me both." she murmurs, in the same tone, raising her drink again. She savors the bittersweet taste for a moment before hesitantly asking the question that's been floating around in her mind.

"So how do we go about this whole thing?" she wonders, recapping her drink. "I mean, as much as I want you gone, if we're connected I assume that's not going to happen."

He shrugs, at a loss. "I don't know to be honest." he sighs, running a hand through his cropped hair. "It's not like I've been through this before. I guess -"

A surprise to them both, Jacob is suddenly cut off by a high pitched whistle being blown. The two of them share a quick, questioning look before extending their necks and peering over the edge of the house, the sharp sound almost sounding like it was meant to get _their_ attention.

"Santana?" she frowns, confused at the sight of the Latina down below. "What do you want?"

Santana throws up both hands, exasperated. "I leave Brittany alone on the dance floor for like a _second_ to use the bathroom and when I come back she's gone." she yells, her head tilted back. "Have you seen her? Oh, hey dog breath." she adds, noticing (and smirking at) Jacob's presence.

"I'll be right down." she calls down to Santana, already pushing herself to her feet. God only knows what kind of trouble Brittany can get into unsupervised, especially if she has alcohol in her system - which she undoubtedly does.

"I'll check the upstairs, maybe's she's up here. You know how she sometimes gets lost in people's closets."

Santana nods. "I'll continue looking around down here. Maybe she's in the garage or something…" she drifts off, then disappears back into the house just as Quinn carefully makes her way inside; Jacob following close behind.

"She's close by." he assures instantly - she's pretty sure she just heard him sniff the air and yeah, it's weird but whatever, he's a dog.

"Right." she says, blinking before yanking the bedroom door open, the force of which nearly hit him in the face. Had she not been otherwise preoccupied she probably would have chuckled.

She goes out into the hallway, her heart rate picking up speed in the process. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach is urging her to act as fast as she can and she quickly looks to her left and then her right. Just as she was about to head in one direction, she feels Jacob's hands on her waist, gently guiding in the other.

She quickly swats his hands away, her cheeks going a little flush at the contact. Thankfully though, since he's behind her, he doesn't catch it. She promptly shakes it off and continues down the hall in a hasty manner, her unease growing.

"Quinn!" She comes to an abrupt halt prompting Jacob to bump into her. She glares at him briefly for it before catching sight of Santana jogging up the last of the stairs. "Did you find her?" she questions, slightly breathless. "Cause I looked for her everywhere downstairs. No one's seen her."

"She's in here." Jacob interrupts, gesturing to the door at the very end of the hallway. He jiggles the door handle but of course it's locked. He takes a step back, preparing to knock it down himself but Santana beats him to it, all but pushing him out of the way.

"Britt! Brittany!" Santana doesn't wait for an answer before she kicks in the door like some kind of she-hulk (which she kind of is really but never say that to her face).

Once the door is out of the way Santana charges through like a bat out of hell with Quinn right on her heels.

The scene they come across instantaneously has them both seeing red - figuratively speaking, of course. No murders here or anything, well, at least not _yet_.

"What the hell? Get the fuck off of her!" Santana screams - like a banshee, she might add - before lunging at the football player who was half on top of what looked like a very _out of it _Brittany.

She barely even bats an eyelash when Santana grabs the guy by the collar of his letterman's jacket and throws him into the wall like a rag doll. She maneuvers instinctively to Brittany's side, fleetingly thinking to herself that if she had been in Santana's position she would have started off by throwing him through the window. But that's just her.

Shaking her head, she focuses on the task at hand and pats Brittany's cheek a few times, in attempt to get the blonde to awaken. "He definitely gave her something." she says to a preoccupied Santana, frowning slightly when her attempts to awaken Brittany don't work, at least not really.

"He most likely roofied her." The words are like bile on her tongue and her anger flares like that of a provoked animal. She reins it in though - for the time being at least.

Focus, Quinn, _focus_.

"Can you take her to my car?" she asks hurriedly, swiftly turning her attention to Jacob - who looked like he didn't know whether or not to pull Santana off of the guy she was currently beating to a pulp or to help her.

"Of course." he says, shaking his head of this dilemma and quickly moving toward her side. She wordlessly hands him her car keys before scooping up Brittany in her arms and then passing her over to Jacob. "We'll be right there." she assures, following him to the door.

She stops at the doorway and once he's out of sight, she pulls back and closes the door, locking it instantly. Her whole body is trembling slightly from all the adrenaline pumping through her veins and to combine that with the fury she has over the fact that Brittany had just been slipped a _date-rape _drug, well…let's just say it might just enable her to give Santana a run for her money in the volatile department.

"And this is why we don't go to parties." she mutters to herself, coming up behind Santana and prying her off the guy, who she now recognizes as the quarterback for the opposing team McKinley just played. Santana nearly hits her for getting in her way but restrains herself at the last second.

"You're not the only one who wants a piece of him." she says, her eyes narrowing at the furious death glare Santana was giving her. The Latina reluctantly steps aside, still fuming.

Without another word she hauls the crying - yes, _crying_ - boy to his feet before shoving him back down to his knees. She grabs a hold of his right arm and pulls it back behind his body. Then _keeps_ pulling it back, using all her strength. She can practically _hear_ the muscle tearing. "Hope you didn't plan on making football your career." she says, over his anguished cries and pleads, yanking on his arm until she finally heard a 'pop'.

His agonized scream rebounds off the walls but the music from downstairs is so loud that probably no one even hears it.

She pulls him up again with her hand wrapped around his throat, her nails undoubtedly digging into the skin, choking him further. She unceremoniously slams his back into the wall.

"You even think for a second about telling anyone about this and you will have to wrath of one Sue Sylvester - is that clear?" The boy nods fearfully, because the name _Sue Sylvester _is infamous even outside the city of Lima. Hell she was known practically throughout the entire Midwest, and maybe Canada.

And of course Russia. She's like a god there.

"Good." She releases his throat and he sinks down the wall a little, coughing and gasping for air, his face like a cherry.

Sharply turning on her heel, she walks over to the closet. She assumes this room to belong to Casey's brother, what with the abundant amount of sports gear lying around and car magazines littered across the floor. She picks out two items from the disarrayed closet - a baseball bat and a tennis racket that looked like it never been used before - and hands one of them to Santana.

Since Brittany _is_ Santana's girlfriend she allows the Latina use of the bat.

"Here, San." she says, handing over said item while meanwhile flashing the football player a sinister smile. "Go to town."

And she does.

Quinn waits a few moments before joining in.

—

Being that the guy is human, they don't kill him - though they most certainly would have had no problem doing so. Instead they have to settle for inflicting so much damage to him that he will probably have to spend the next few months in a full body cast.

Together they leave Casey's house and head down the sidewalk, side by side, to where her car is parked a few spaces over. Jacob, as well as the rest of his pack, are standing around it, surveying the area like guard dogs who dare anyone to come near the car. Santana immediately quickens her pace in her haste to get to Brittany.

"Hey." Jacob visibly relaxes when he sees her walking toward him - er, _them_. "What happened?"

"Nothing, really." she says, slightly distracted by the blonde in the backseat of her car and the brunette fussing over her. "We should be getting home."

"Shouldn't you take her to a hospital?" Jacob questions, turning his head and nodding toward her.

She shakes her head, already making her way toward the driver's side. "Can't. Besides she'll be completely fine in a little while. You guys aren't the only ones who heal fast." she explains, catching sight of their confused glances.

She reaches for her door but pauses halfway, her hand falling to her side. She turns and meets Jacob's gaze, smiling faintly. "Thank you." she says in what she hopes is a sincere sounding tone. "For you know, helping."

He nods, shrugging his shoulders like it was nothing. "Any time."

She nods and pulls open her car door, lips slightly pursed. "See you." she throws out just before getting in.

And when Jacob fails to respond right away, his pack mates do so for him. "See you around, Quinn." they echo in unison, the three of them waving brightly at her from the sidewalk.

She can't help but smile - both at their endearing charm and the fact that they successfully mortified Jacob.

—

After dropping off Santana and Brittany at the former's house, she drives home to change out of her Cheerios uniform before she has to head out again. Sue would kill her if she gets blood on it.

She's pretty exhausted but someone still needs to run patrol for the night and since Santana would rather set her foot on fire that leave Brittany's side right now, it's up to her to see it through. Not that she minds though.

The whole near date-rape thing with Brittany has left her pretty shaken and she can't think of a better way to work out the excess emotions than through killing vampires. Or ghouls. Or zombies. Or whatever she happens to come across tonight.

When she gets to her room and after she flicks the lights on the first thing she sees is his leather jacket lying on her bed.

The same jacket she _distinctly_ remembers disposing of in the trashcan out back before she left for school this morning. Shaking her head, she picks it up off her comforter and drapes it over her desk chair on her way to the bathroom.

It's when she reemerges from the bathroom, now clad in more 'patrol appropriate' clothes, when she hears something hit her window. Cautiously, she walks toward the wall and when she peers down her window she can't help but shake her head in complete disbelief.

She pushes her window up and ducks her head out to properly glare at the werewolf currently in her backyard. "What do you think you're doing?" she hisses. She has neighbors - nosy ones at that - and if they see a hulking young man in her backyard there's no telling what kind of rumors will start flying.

"Take it easy, Buff. I come in peace." he chuckles, holding up a hand in mock surrender. "I also come bearing bacon." he adds, holding up a white paper bag with the local burger joint label on it. The grin on his face says it all.

She purses her lips, her anger quickly dissipating even though she doesn't necessarily want it to. "I'll be right down." she murmurs, her head shaking at her own inability to resist anyone who offers her bacon.

Stupid mongrel.

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**AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated and will get you faster updates!**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Big big thanks to those who reviewed! Definitely means a lot and keeps me motivated! And I just wanted to clarify that this like an AU S2. For the most part everything that happened in S1 still happened with the exception of baby gate. In this Quinn has dated Finn, Sam, and Puck but she's never slept with anyone. Just wanted to clear that up. **

**Anyways, Read. enjoy. review please.**

* * *

"You're trying to get me fat, aren't you?" Quinn says, her narrowed eyes slightly playful as she meets Jacob out on her backyard lawn.

He chuckles. "I'm pretty sure that's impossible." he says in return, handing over the paper bag of food to her. "How's Brittany?"

"Coming around." she replies, opening the bag and inhaling the bacon scent that greets her. "It'll be out of her system soon enough. So what are you doing here?" she wonders, lifting her gaze.

He shrugs. "Figured you could use someone to patrol with."

She frowns at that remark. "I don't need you to protect me." she says seriously, though not in a harsh manner. "I can handle myself."

"Well aware." he nods. "I'm not looking to be your white knight in shining armor or anything." he assures. "I just - it doesn't hurt to have a helping hand every once and a while."

"Which is why I have Santana and Brittany." she reminds, but again not harshly. "But thanks."

"So, can I walk you to your car at least?" he asks, hopeful, his hands deep in his jean pockets.

She nods. "Yeah, sure." she turns, starting them off toward the side of the house. She bites down on her bottom lip as they head around front.

"You can come with me." she hears herself say softly, her fingers fiddling with the paper bag in her grasp. "If you want. I mean most of the time it's just me walking around, waiting for something to pop out of the shadows but things usually get more interesting as the night wears on."

"Thanks." They walk along side each other and a second later she feels him lean into her slightly. "You do know that I would've come with you anyways, right?"

She chuckles lightly, unable to keep from smiling. "Yeah, I figured." she sighs, nodding.

As she fishes her car keys from out of her pocket, she hears Jacob comment teasingly. "Batman has his batmobile, X-men have their jet, and you…have your little red bug."

She scoffs at that little dig. "Oh shut up." she playfully glares, turning and smacking his arm. "I know it's not the coolest of cars but it does the job all the same."

"You _would_ choose this car." he smirks, chuckling to himself as he walks around to the passenger side.

She scowls. "I didn't choose it for your information." she says, reaching into the paper bag and flinging a French fry at him - just cause she can. "My dad had gotten it for me as a birthday gift. Believe me I wouldn't have chosen this car for myself anymore than you would have."

She opens her car door and slides into her seat, then pulls the door along with her until it closes. Looking over at Jacob, who had just finished doing the same, she has to purse her lips to keep from giggling. His gigantor frame looks twice its normal size in her compact little Volkswagen and the sight is so damn funny that she can already feel her shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

He looks over at her curiously. "Sorry my car isn't exactly werewolf friendly." she apologizes, grinning. Her eyebrow quirks teasingly. "Would you like me to open the sun roof so you don't have to hunch over?"

"Funny." he says dryly, his eyes rolling. "You know I don't think you deserve this food after all." he murmurs, reaching for the paper bag in between them - only to get his hand smacked by hers. "Hey!"

"You can't take it back." she tells him, as if it's news to him, and meanwhile moving the bag out of his reach. "That would make you an Indian giver."

"Your obsession with bacon is astounding." he observes, pulling back with a shake of his head. His eyes narrow questioningly. "By any chance have scientists done any studies on you yet?"

"On second thought get out of my car."

—

"So what's the weirdest way you've killed a vampire?"

Quinn (reluctantly) looks up from the bacon cheeseburger she's been happily indulging in and swallows her mouthful before shooting a quizzical glance his way. "You ask the weirdest questions, you know that?"

They've been sitting in the park for some time now, sharing the burger and fries he had brought her while they waited for signs of supernatural activity.

And unfortunately for her, the only things that have been killed tonight are her brain cells from having to converse with the mongrel.

She _really_ should have given a second thought to inviting him to tag along on patrol with her.

"So what's your answer?" Jacob chuckles, decidedly laughing off her comment.

"With my thighs." she answers casually, swirling around one of her fries in the little dollop of ketchup before bringing it to her lips.

Her gaze finds his again and she can't help but giggle at his utterly perplexed expression. "With your…?"

"We were in Akron for a cheer meet." she sighs, knowing she had to elaborate. She kind of wish she didn't though - his face was priceless.

"And one of the coaches was a vampire who going around turning her cheerleaders in hope that the added strength and endurance would be enough to finally put their team over the top." She shakes her head slightly, because not even vampire cheerleaders could ever defeat the Cheerios.

"Anyways, after the competition we had a little confrontation with the '_leech_leaders' as Santana called them and you know, things naturally got a little violent. We were fighting in the back alley behind the auditorium and I was up on the fire escape at one point and well, I caught this girl by surprise when I came down and I was in the perfect position, so I just…wrapped my legs around her head and squeezed until I snapped her neck."

She finishes with an innocent shrug, popping another fry in her mouth. "It's the one and only time I've ever had a girl in between my legs."

She pauses and quickly clears her throat after that last pronouncement, her cheeks flushing. It sounded a lot more innocent in her head than it did out of it.

She looks over at Jacob and finds him staring at her, slightly dazed. "I'm sorry, but could you repeat that whole story - only this time _slower?_"

She doesn't hesitate in rolling her eyes. "Typical." she scoffs, balling up the empty burger wrapping in her hand and tossing it at him. "You're such a guy."

He picks the wrapper off the ground and deposits it in the trashcan next to them. "How are you so strong anyways? Do you like, ingest steroids or something?" he asks, only half joking.

She shakes her head and sighs. "All I know is that one minute Coach Sylvester is giving us a so-called 'flu shot' and the next minute we've got this newfound resilience against like, _everything_."

"Like some kind of a super-soldier serum?" he questions, reaching over and plucking the fry from out of her hand.

"I suppose." she says, briefly glaring at him for taking her French fry. "Sue has yet to disclose any of the contents but I have a feeling we're better off not knowing what she gave us. I can't imagine she gave us anything legal. Not that I'm complaining or anything."

If it wasn't for that shot she'd have to work a lot harder to maintain her perfect figure than she does now. She absently picks up another fry, but after a minor hesitation, throws it back in the bag. Regardless she should probably cut down on the processed food.

"So you like being a hunter?"

"More or less." she nods, wiping her hands with a napkin. "I mean, yeah it sometimes it gets in the way of me having an actual life and _really_ makes me question the state of my sanity _or lack thereof _but at the end of the day I'm protecting those who can't do it themselves and it's a good feeling, you know? It's the only time I actually feel like I'm doing something meaningful."

"Do your parents know?"

"That I'm a supernatural serial killer? No." She could only imagine her mother's reaction if she ever told her the truth. She'd probably throw her in some kind of sanatorium and tell her book club that she was just away on sabbatical.

"It's just me and my mom. She tends to drown her sorrows in work and booze. I hardly see her - we're like ships passing in the night. It works for me though, considering I get home at all hours of the night with blood on my clothes most of the time. It saves me the hassle of coming up with reasonable explanations."

_And what is this, the Oprah Winfrey show? _Realizing she was giving him _way_ too much insight into her personal life, she quickly shuts herself up before she can utter anything more.

"So, yeah, what about your parents? Do they know about you furry little problem?" She figures she might as well take the opportunity to question him for a change.

Though not because she has any interest in his life or anything…cause she doesn't.

"My dad does." he says, laughing shortly at the 'furry little problem' mention. "But my mom died when I was a kid so…yeah." His smile falters with an uncomfortable nod.

She blinks in surprise. "Oh." Now they're both uncomfortable. "I'm sorry." she offers lamely, cringing slightly at her own incompetence. She was never good with condolences. It was part of the reason why people thought her to be so cold-hearted. She just wasn't any good at expressing emotion - she blames it on the suppressive household she grew up in.

She was more or less the type of girl that bottled everything up until it exploded into a burst of uncalled for bitchiness. Or a psychotic vampire slaying.

"I know what it's like: to lose a parent." she begins softly, fiddling with the hem of her cardigan. "My dad died a few months ago."

"I'm sorry."

"_I'm_ sorry I had to be the one to kill him."

She can feel his eyes on her, naturally looking for clarification. "My dad was having an affair with some tattooed freak who - unsurprisingly - turned out to be a vampire." she rubs at the back of her neck, eyes shutting momentarily. This is one memory she prefers to keep buried but oh well, whatever. "Anyways to make a long story short - one day my dad's human, the next he isn't and before I know it I'm having to stake them both."

"That must've been rough."

"Not nearly as rough as it should've been." she murmurs, shifting her weight and discreetly tucking both her hands under her thighs. Her hands are starting to twitch which means she's gone too long without inflicting physical harm on something supernatural.

She would hit the mongrel but she's afraid he'd take it as invitation to kiss her again like he did yesterday night.

"You okay, there?" Unfortunately for her, her unease does not go unnoticed by Jacob. Damn it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and nods. She catches sight of his disbelieving stare and rolls her eyes, reluctantly relenting (though she has no idea why). "Okay, so I get a little twitchy when I haven't killed in a while. Shut up." She crosses her arms self-consciously.

He laughs, then pushes himself upright. "You are something else." he breathes, smiling, his head still shaking from disbelief.

"Well, come on then." he chuckles, turning around and offering his hand to her. "I'm sure we can find you some vampires to kill somewhere."

She glares, because he's totally enjoying this and frankly it's annoying her, and gets to her feet. She completely disregards his extended hand.

"You glare a lot, you know that?"

She would have glared again but because that would just be proving his point, she refrains. Which just ticks her off even more. "Note to self: keep taser in pocket at all times in case of annoying werewolf." she says out loud, already in the process of walking away from him.

"Oh c'mon, twitchy. Don't be like that." he says, easily catching up to her. Damn him and his freakishly long legs.

"Don't call me that." she snaps, picking up her pace. "And go away. If you haven't already guessed I revoke my invitation."

"Okay Buff." he says, rolling his eyes, but nevertheless quickening his pace so that he was walking alongside her again.

"Don't call me that either."

"Then you can't call me a 'mongrel'."

"That's different. _Mongrel's_ actually your name." she responds curtly, ignoring his scoff and getting out her keys. After she unlocks her car, she quickly opens the door and slides into her seat. Meanwhile Jacob pulls on the passenger side door only to find it locked.

She smiles at this and starts the engine, wasting no time in pulling into reverse. When he smacks the side of the window she rolls it down. "You've got four legs." she tells him, smirking all the while. "Use them."

—

She hadn't expected Jacob to just leave her alone after that - she knows better by now - but whatever; it was totally worth seeing the expression on his face as she drove off.

Tearing her gaze off her review mirror where the mongrel's figure was slowly growing closer in view, she gets out of her car and slams the door closed behind her.

"Thanks for ditching me by the way." he says, walking up to her. "Or rather I should say, cute attempt at _trying _to ditch me." he smirks.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, well you were annoying me." she says, shrugging carelessly. "I can only take you in small doses. Like cough syrup. Otherwise I get migraines."

He laughs. "So I take it you sensed the leeches here too?" he assumes, briefly nodding toward the local hospital just a couple yards away from them.

"Hospitals are literally open bars for vampires." she responds with a nod, wrinkling her nose slightly in distaste. "If they aren't stealing blood bags they're making meals out of the patients."

"It doesn't sound like anyone's being fed on." he comments, lips firm with concentration as he utilizes his heightened sense of hearing. "They must just be stocking up on blood bags."

"I figured as much." she says, pulling out her trusty stake. She leans against the side of her car and exhales, knowing it better to just wait out the bloodsuckers out here than risk making a scene inside.

"So what other supernatural weirdos have you faced?" he asks curiously, coming up beside her and leaning against the car as well.

She has to fight the urge to roll her eyes because, Jesus, this boy asks _way_ too many questions.

"The less time consuming question would be what creatures _haven't _I faced." she remarks, now disinterestedly inspecting her nails. "If I listed off every supernatural freakshow I've ever encountered we'd here all month."

He nods understandingly. "I've only dealt with vampires." he responds. "Come across the occasional the witch but I make sure to steer clear of them whenever possible."

"Witches are certainly forces to be reckoned with." she murmurs, thinking back to those psychotic witches in the French Quarter. "And most definitely not the people you ever want to get on the bad side of."

He nods agreeingly. "Hence the evasion." Just then, he perks up and pushes himself away from the car, a low growl building from within his chest. A second later she does the same - not the growling thing of course - having sensed what he undoubtedly just did.

"Don't get in my way." she warns, eyeing the vampire duo attempting to sneak out of the back entrance, coolers filled with blood bags in tow.

"As long as you don't get in mine." he retorts, the two of them already quickly gaining on the bloodsuckers.

—

Jacob stamps out the last of the flames of their little vampire bonfire. "What is it with this town?" he questions with a frown, turning around. "I've never seen one town plagued by so many bloodsuckers in my entire life."

After they had finished off the vampire twins at the hospital, they had come across a couple more near the outskirts of town - the mess of which they were now cleaning up.

"Beats me." she shrugs, wiping off her stake. "And to think this is what we consider to be a slow week."

"Now what?" he questions, walking back over to her. "We try our luck on the other side of town?"

"You can if you like but my shift's over for tonight which means I'm going home." she pockets her stake and starts toward her car.

"I'll drive you home." he offers, easily catching up with her again. "You look tired."

"I'm fine." she assures without looking back at him. She reaches for her car keys at the same time she feels his hand wrap around her other wrist. "What have I said about you touching me?" she hisses, automatically yanking her arm out of his grasp. "Don't."

"Whether we like it or not, we are going to have to get used to having each other in our lives, Quinn." he says, quickly cutting her off and stopping right in front of her. "I know you hate this but the least you could do is _try_ and cooperate."

"Okay, I know you don't know me that well but I'm going to tell you right now, this -" she motions in between them. "_is_ me cooperating. And this is also about as much cooperation you're going to get out of me."

He inhales sharply. "You are so damn stubborn." he breathes, shaking his head. His gaze falls back to hers and he chuckles. "It's incredibly annoying, you know that?"

"Yeah, well your face is annoying." she retorts, shouldering past him without another word. Not the greatest comeback in the world, but whatever.

"What I ever did to deserve being bound to you for the rest of my life is beyond me."

"You and me both." she says dryly, quickly losing what little interest she had in this conversation to begin with. When she reaches her car, she extends her arm out toward the door. "Hold on a minute." she hears him say and a second later she feels his hand taking hers, gently pulling her back.

The contact is a shock. No literally. It was like a little electric current just shot through her hand, leaving every nerve ending tingling with a sensation that while not exactly pleasant, was not entirely _unpleasant _either.

Weird.

The sight (and feeling) of Jacob's hand coming up to her neck quickly distracts her from any further thoughts on the matter. "Woah, woah, woah." Realizing how close they were, she instantly jerks back from his touch and starts swatting at the air. "None of that. Just because you managed to catch me off guard the other night doesn't mean you can just kiss me whenever you feel like."

He rolls his eyes. "Relax. I wasn't trying to kiss you. You just have a little vamp blood backsplash on you is all." he says, gesturing to the side of her neck.

"Oh." she says, stupidly, her hand blindly coming up to her neck. She scratches at the little remnant of blood she feels below her ear until it's completely gone. "Thanks."

She drops her hand and figures it best to get in the car now before he can make any more attempts at delaying her leaving. "Well, see you later." she says distantly, awkwardly waving him off.

She's just about to turn back toward her car when, somehow, the mongrel manages to sneak in a quick kiss, _completely_ catching her off guard.

_Damn him!_

"Stupid mongrel!" she exclaims, cheeks flushing deeply after she blinks away the initial surprise. She kicks at him, even though by then he's already sidestepping out of reach, resulting in her getting nothing but air. The fact that he's howling with laughter just infuriates her even more.

She huffs. "Stop doing that!" she says, flustered, while still glaring at him heavily. She has half a mind to go after him and kick his ass but she's too much of a lady to do so. Well, _that _and the fact that she's really too tired to do so.

She'll just have to get back at him another time.

"See you later, Buff!" he laughs, slowly backtracking his way toward the trees.

The urge to scream at him nearly overpowers her right then because god damnit, she _hates_ being called by that name. "Stop calling me Buffy!" she yells.

_Oh to hell with it_. Whipping out her stake from inside her cardigan, she runs after him.

She doesn't exactly know what she's going to do to a werewolf using a stake, but she likes to think herself a creative person. She'll figure something out.

—

When she finally _does_ make it home, she's beyond exhausted and soaking wet. She trudges up to the front porch, leaving a trail of water in her wake. She curses the mongrel Jacob Black to hell and back. Needless to say the ass kicking she intended on giving him didn't exactly play out the way she would have liked.

It wasn't even an ass kicking now that she thinks about it, but more of them chasing each other around the woods like a couple of five year-olds with her pelting him with rocks, dirt, or whatever else she could get her hands on at the time.

And there was probably a lot more laughter involved than there should have been so yeah, she officially sucks at her job when it comes to the mongrel.

Fumbling with her keys due to cold, shaky hands, it takes her a few tries to get her key into the lock. Had the mongrel not pushed her into the creek that runs through the woods she would _not_ be having this problem right now.

Eventually she gets the door open and automatically she's greeted with a surge of warm air. She eagerly shuffles inside, quickly closing the door behind her. She's fairly surprised to hear soft laughter from the living room, given how late it was - or _early_, technically.

She drops her keys in the designated bowl on the hallway table before making her way into the living room.

"What are you guys doing here?" she wonders, knowing who had it been the second she heard the familiar laughter. "And do you even realize what time it is?" She walks around the sofa Santana and Brittany are lounging on and shakes her head at the mess they've made of her mother's coffee table.

Not that she's too upset about that. It's more of the fact that they clearly broke into her secret candy stash that has her peeved.

She'd been saving those Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for a special occasion.

Both girls turn their heads toward her. "What happened to you?" Santana questions, brow quickly furrowing as she takes in her dripping wet appearance.

"Swamp monster again?" Brittany guesses after one look. "I hate those."

She shakes her head. She doesn't feel like explaining what happened so she decides to get back to finding out why they were here.

"After you dropped us off my parents started fighting and since Brittany's house is too far to walk to from mine, we decided to come here." Santana explains, her eyes fitting back to the screen in front of her.

"We ordered pizza." she nudges the practically empty pizza box on the table with her foot. "You can have some - considering you paid for it." she adds under her breath.

Quinn rolls her eyes, which then fall back to the television. "What are you guys watching…" she jumps back suddenly, appalled. "Oh my God! What is this?"

Santana starts laughing hysterically at the scene playing out before them. "Have you ever seen this?" she questions, eyes still glued to the television.

She shakes her head. "What the hell kind of a movie is this?" she asks, incredibly disturbed by what was playing out on the screen. Some blonde girl was screaming frantically on a doctor's table because her vagina just bit off the fingers of her gynecologist.

"It's called _Teeth_." Brittany answers, making a face and burying her face into Santana's shoulder, clearly not finding this movie as amusing as her girlfriend.

"This girl has like, teeth in her vagina." Santana explains, still cackling. "Oh man this is like the best movie ever." she sighs, wiping the tears out of the corners of her eyes.

Quinn picks up the remote off the sofa armrest, shaking her head. The movies of today. And people wonder why the teenagers of today are such idiots.

She shuts off the television without a second thought, much to the dismay of Santana. "Okay you guys. Time for bed." she tosses the remote on the nearest chair and turns to her two best friends expectantly.

"But we're not tired." Santana protests, crossing her arms stubbornly. "And we haven't finished the movie."

"You can finish it tomorrow. C'mon now." she starts shooing them off the couch and toward the stairs. "You guys should have been in bed ages ago. And you two know better than to have sugar so late." she adds, catching sight of all empty candy wrappers littered around them. "You're like Gremlins - you shouldn't be fed after midnight."

"Can we all sleep in your bed, Quinn?" Brittany asks hopefully as they all head up the stairs together.

Quinn purses her lips. "Britt, don't you think we're getting a little too old for that?" she says as delicately as she can. "I mean my bed isn't as big as it used to be."

Plus they aren't eight years-old anymore.

"_Please_, Quinn?" Brittany drawls out, pouting slightly.

"Yeah, okay." she sighs, giving in like she always does. Brittany just has that effect on people and coupled with the crazy night she's had, Quinn figures it's the least she could do for the other blonde.

Santana leads the way into her room and Quinn closes the door behind them, her knees just about ready to give out on her when she catches sight of her precious bed. But since she's soaking wet she refrains from making a beeline for it like she wants desperately to.

Santana and Brittany both walk over to her dresser - to their designated drawers because yeah, they sleep over a lot and she was tired of them constantly stretching out her shirts (specifically around the chest area).

While they sort out their clothes, she kicks off her ruined shoes and begins to peel off her soaked ones. They've all been friends since they were like five so nobody has qualms about undressing in front of the others.

She's just finished getting out of her dress and in the process of carrying over her wet clothes to her bathroom when Santana snaps her out of her sleep deprived daze. "And what is this, Q?"

Turning around without any preconceived idea about what the Latina could be referring to, she feels her eyes unwittingly widen when she sees what Santana has in her grasp.

Embarrassed by the discovery, she quickly walks over and snatches Jacob's jacket from out of her hand. "It's nothing. Just something the mongrel gave to me and refused to take back." she explains, throwing the article back on her desk chair and doing her best to act nonchalant, though in the back of her mind she kind of knows it's too late for that.

"I've been trying to give it back to him, I even threw it away in the trash, but he just keeps giving it back." She scowls at the smirk Santana's throwing at her.

"Of course he is." Brittany speaks up, now clad in her favorite unicorn pajama set. Both Santana and Quinn turn toward her, frowning.

"What do you mean, Britt?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Brittany asks, her brow furrowed at their confusion. "He wants you to carry his scent. Wolves are highly territorial animals and with scent marking it lets others know that you're apart of his pack and that you're under his protection. So no one will try and mess with you."

Santana and Quinn both openly gape. This coming from the same girl who thinks that dolphins are just gay sharks.

Brittany frowns deeply at the looks she's being given. "What? You guys aren't the only ones who do research."

"Werewolves are seriously weird." Santana comments, shaking her head, before getting back to changing into her pajamas.

"Just be grateful he hasn't peed on you to mark his territory." Brittany says, passing by Quinn on her way toward the bathroom. "Well, at least not _yet_."

She looks over her shoulder, catching sight of the other blonde's horrified expression and laughs. "I'm _kidding_, Quinn."

—

"And here I was thinking Berry was the biggest pain in the ass on the planet." Santana says, lifting her head from the sink after rinsing out her mouth. "Your wolf definitely sounds like he could give the hobbit a run for her money."

"He's not _my_ wolf." she huffs, combing her newly washed hair back. "But yes. He's super annoying. I still have the headache to prove it."

"A shame considering he's so smokin'." Santana sighs, dropping her toothbrush back in its container. "But not surprising. You attract annoying guys like Berry attracts perverted Japanese businessmen with very dark specific fetishes."

"You mean Mike?" Brittany questions with a confused frown. "But isn't he with Tina?"

"You know now that I think about it you also somehow manage to attract guys with some kind of abnormal body part or another." Santana says thoughtfully, decidedly ignoring her girlfriend's inquiry.

Quinn tears her gaze away from her reflection, looking to the Latina quizzically. "Excuse me?"

"Uh yeah." Santana heads back out the bathroom leading the other girls to follow suit. Quinn hits the lights on her way out. "Finn has his weird, puffy, pyramid shaped nipples that could pass off as some kind of French dessert."

"Puck has his weird egg shaped head." Brittany throws in with a smile, skipping toward the bed.

Santana smirks, walking around to the other side, and pulls back the covers. "And how could we forget about dear old Trouty mouth and his freakishly large salamander lips?"

She just rolls her eyes and waits for Brittany to slide into bed so that she can do the same. Brittany gets to be in the middle (or the 'mush pot' as she calls it) with Santana and Quinn surrounding her on either side. It's been this way for as long as any of them can remember. Brittany says it's because that, even in sleep, they both like to keep her safe and protected.

Her and Santana both agree with this speculation…even if they've never voiced their agreement about it out loud before. They both know admitting to such a thing would mean exposing the fact that they actually have more sentimentality to them than they let on.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Quinn reaches out and turns off her bedside lamp.

"Night, Santana. Night, Quinn." Brittany says, yawning into the darkness as she snuggles further under the blankets.

"Night Brittany." they say in unison, yawning themselves.

Quinn relaxes her body and sighs, closing her eyes as she awaits sleep to overtake her. She figures it shouldn't take long given how tired she is. She can already feel herself slowly drifting…

"Since Quinn attracts guys with abnormal body parts what do you think Jacob's is?"

Her eyes unwittingly flash open at the sound of Brittany's voice slicing through the peace like a machete. She inwardly groans.

"His penis if she's lucky. Or unlucky, depending which size we're talking." Santana snickers; Brittany stays silent - presumably because she didn't understand the joke.

"Guys go to sleep. _Please_." she begs, rolling onto her side. "Or I will not hesitate to throw you two out."

"Someone's crabby." Santana speculates. "You any closer to doing the deed with wolf boy? Because I'm sure twenty minutes alone with him will cure that."

"Twenty minutes alone with him is _how_ I got so crabby." she retorts, pushing her pillow over her ears in attempt to drown out this conversation.

"You mean you slept with him and it was _bad_?" Brittany questions, surprised.

To her dismay the pillow does nothing to drown out the sounds of their voices. "I didn't sleep with him Brittany. Ew."

"Hey don't knock it 'til you ride it." Santana replies, the smirk evident in her voice. "That's my motto."

"That's it. I'm sleeping in the guest room." she huffs, bolting upright and shuffling out of bed.

"Fine with us." Santana says, then doing something to make Brittany giggle.

"Oh no. None of that." she says, quickly getting back in between the covers. "Not in my bed. These are my favorite sheets and I will not have you two fornicating in them."

"It's a little too late for that, Q. What do you think we were doing while you were out on patrol? Knitting you a sweater?" Santana snorts. "_Please_."

Quinn covers her face with her hands, biting back an exasperated groan. "At least tell me you guys had the decency to wash my sheets."

"Well, if by 'wash' you mean 'spray with Febreze' then yeah. We totally did."

* * *

**AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: As always, big big thanks to those who reviewed! It does wonders for my drive to write! Anyways, here's another chapter. Read. enjoy. review!**

* * *

Like almost every other teenager in America, Quinn loves Saturdays.

Saturdays mean no school, no glee club, but more importantly, no five a.m. wake up calls for training with Coach Sylvester. Which, in short, means that Saturdays are sacred.

A memo that has _clearly_ not reached the person currently ringing her doorbell at this ungodly hour.

So much for Saturdays being the one day of the week where she can sleep in past noon without interruption, she thinks, reluctantly backtracking down the staircase she had just been in the process of climbing up.

If only she had stayed in bed, then she never would have heard the damn doorbell. Setting down the bottle of water that had been her reason for coming down here in the first place, she reaches for the doorknob. She pulls back the door, half expecting to see one of those little old Avon ladies looking to sell her makeup she doesn't even need on the other side of it.

"Oh hell no." is the first thing that comes out of her mouth when she looks up and sees who's _really_ behind her door. She immediately tries to slam the door on him, but Jacob's hand shoots out in time to stop it. "Morning, sunshine." he greets.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she demands, slightly disgusted by his cheerfulness at this hour.

Ugh. He's like the male version of Rachel Berry or something.

Barely able to suppress a shudder at that incredibly disturbing thought, she manages to shake it off before it's noticed by the mongrel.

"It's only nine o'clock." he says, slightly amused by her mood. "I take it that means you are _not_ a morning person." He nods to himself. "Duly noted."

She manages to throw a glare at him while at the same time catch sight of his pack standing behind him. How the hell she hadn't noticed them before is beyond her. Four enormous wolves on her porch are about as subtle as Kurt Hummel's sexuality.

"Do I dare ask why you have your pound puppies with you today?"

Jacob glances over his shoulder before answering her. "We're here for breakfast."

Her eyebrow quirks. "Breakfast?" she scoffs, her arms crossing over her chest. "And you honestly think you're going to get it _here_?"

"It's the least you could do considering you spent half the night chasing me around the woods pelting me with rocks." he informs. Her cheeks flush a little because his pack _is_ standing right there, listening. "Those things hurt by the way. For all you know I sustained serious head trauma."

"Pretty sure you had that long before you ever met me." she quips, earning a few snickers from the guys. "And need I remind you that that you pushed me in a _lake_?"

"Creek." he corrects, smirking. "I threw you in a _creek_."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Point is you had it coming so I owe you nothing. Now get off my property." She makes a shooing motion with her hand. "C'mon. Go."

"Yeah, I don't think so." he chuckles, stepping forward and making his way into her house. His pack follows suit while she just stands in the doorway, completely taken aback. What the hell?

Leaving the door open, she promptly marches over to the wolves taking up the entirety of her hallway. "Okay, I get that you dogs don't understand the meaning of _go away _but if you guys don't get the hell out of my house within the next ten seconds, I am personally throwing each and every one of you out on your asses."

Quil snorts. "I'd like to see that happen." he murmurs, sharing a smirk with Embry and Seth.

She throws him a withering glare. "You are _so_ going first." she grits out, already advancing toward him. Jacob manages to pull her back though.

"Take a chill pill there, polly pocket." he chuckles, bringing her back up against his front.

Her face quickly heats up at the contact and immediately she swats her way out of his embrace. "Stop that!" she scowls. She promptly spins around and smacks him upside the head for good measure.

"Ooh, you're gonna have your hands full with this one, Jake." Embry laughs, nodding along with Quil.

"Okay, what the hell is with all the noise?" Santana demands, the Latina having just come down stairs and into the hallway, Brittany half a step behind her. She pauses at the sight of Jacob and his pack, her eyebrow lifting questioningly. "Who invited the Teen Titans?"

"I sure as hell didn't." Quinn retorts, arms crossed and still glowering at Jacob.

"We're joining you girls for breakfast." Jacob informs, looking to Santana and Brittany and ignoring her penetrating stare.

Santana pulls her eye mask off her forehead. "Yeah, well you're like five hours early." she grumbles, clearly as pleased about this disturbance as Quinn is. "No normal teenager wakes up before noon on a Saturday."

"Precisely. So if you guys don't mind…" she gestures back to the open front door. "We'd really like to get back to sleep."

"If I don't get at least ten hours sleep I turn into a real bitch." Santana piles on as a warning. "So unless you want to face my wrath I suggest you look to the neighbors' garbage cans for your breakfast."

"Be nice, San." Brittany says, slightly nudging her girlfriend's side. "Do you guys like pop-tarts?" she questions with enthusiasm, looking to the wolves. Both Quinn and Santana shoot her disbelieving looks. They were trying to get the pack to _leave_, not get them to stay.

"I love pop-tarts." Seth pipes up, grinning. "Wild Berry's my favorite."

Santana rolls her eyes at his response. "Pssh. It's all about the S'mores, perro."

"No way. Brown sugar cinnamon is the best."

"You're delusional. Those thinks suck."

"Have you guys not tried the chocolate chip? It's awesome!"

"Everyone knows blueberry is the best. It turns your mouth blue."

"I'm surrounded by eight year-olds." Quinn murmurs to herself, shaking her head as her two best friends and Jacob's pack argue their way into _her_ kitchen over _pop-tarts_.

"Tell me about it." Jacob says, coming up behind her. "Everyone knows Chocolate fudge is the best."

"Yeah right." she scoffs, reluctantly following the group into the kitchen. "Strawberry is the _best_."

Santana, Brittany, and the wolves are already huddled around the kitchen table, still arguing over the best (and worst) pop-tarts. Jacob moves to join them, pulling out the chair closest to him, but before he can even sit down, she's grabbing him by the ear and pulling him back up.

"You are _so_ helping me, mongrel."

As an unwanted guest it's only fair that he _at least _help her with the food. And it'll be easier this way, she figures, feed them and then send them on their way. She drags him around the other side of the kitchen counter before releasing his ear. Contrary to what Brittany believes pop-tarts are not a suitable meal for breakfast and seeing as how she's the only one who knows how to make a decent breakfast, the responsibility is up to her (just like always).

Opening up the refrigerator, she starts taking out the ingredients she will need, then pushes them into Jacob's unassuming arms. It's a good thing Santana, Brittany, and herself have appetites that rival that of their entire football team's otherwise she would not have enough food to feed the seven of them.

Once the ingredients are neatly spread out across the counter, she looks to Jacob expectantly. "Do you know how to make eggs?"

"I know how to _eat_ eggs." he offers with a smile.

Though she finds herself rolling her eyes again, she can't help but smile a little too. "Well today is your lucky day." she says, turning and plucking an egg from out of the carton. She hands it to him and with her hand covering his, proceeds to show him how to properly crack an egg on the rim of a bowl. "Like that."

She takes her hand away, effectively ignoring the tingling sensation she gets whenever their hands come in contact, and passes him another egg. "I think you can manage this on own." He nods.

She briefly rinses off her hands before turning around to the stove. She bends down to retrieve a frying pan and when she straightens up she hears a small 'crack' shortly followed by Jacob swearing under his breath. After taking once glance over her shoulder, she sighs and reaches for the nearest hand towel, her head shaking. "I guess I spoke too soon." she says, watching the egg yolk ooze off the side of the counter and onto her kitchen floor.

She meets his gaze and smiles a little at his adorably apologetic expression. "I must've done it too hard." he replies sheepishly, as she takes his hand again and helps him clean up.

"If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again." she simply quotes, tossing the hand towel aside before daring to hand him yet another egg. "Only this time _try_ not to get it on my floor."

"Can't make any guarantees but I'll do my best." he chuckles, nodding. He exhales deeply and shares a look with her before making another attempt at cracking an egg. She cringes slightly in anticipation but quickly relaxes when she sees that his execution turned out in his favor - well, _both_ their favor.

She gives an exaggerated gasp of surprise. "Good boy!" she says proudly, pushing herself up onto her toes and reaching out to pat his head like she would a dog. "Should I scratch behind your ear too or would that make your leg shake?"

He rolls his eyes and gently pushes her hand away. "Don't patronize me, woman." he grumbles, smiling slightly.

"Do we dare see if you can do that with the rest?" she questions teasingly, pulling back with a chuckle. "Or would that be pushing our luck?"

His eyes narrow playfully. "Oh shut up and give me the damn eggs." he says, reaching past her for the carton of eggs.

"Well isn't this a cozy picture," Santana drawls loudly, her voice getting everyone's attention. Quinn does her best to play it cool when she lifts her gaze and sees that the Latina's smirk is directed toward her and Jacob. "Mommy and Daddy making us kids breakfast."

The both of them are caught off guard by the comment; she freezes while Jacob accidentally breaks the egg in his hand. Awkward laughter ensues as he tries to wipe up the mess he had just made while she goes to rinse off the yolk he had gotten on her hand. Everyone at the table bursts out laughing at this, evidently taking a lot pleasure out of their friends' embarrassment.

It's then when she's at the sink and noticing she had yolk on her worn McKinley Athletics dept. shirt that she realizes that she was still very much in her pajamas. Suddenly self-conscious of her attire, she quickly slips out of the kitchen to run upstairs and change.

On the way she catches sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror and internally groans. Ugh, she is in desperate need of a brush - both of the hair and tooth variety. She looks just awful and it feels like she has morning breath. Gross.

Being a master at quick changes - Sue only allows Cheerios forty-five seconds to change for practice - she's out of her pajamas, has her hair (and teeth) brushed, and face washed in a minute flat. Once she's deemed herself good to go she swiftly heads out of her bathroom. God only knows what kind of trouble her wolf boy could get into without her supervision.

Wait….did she just say _her_ wolf boy?

Realizing that she had in deed said _her -_ well, at least in her head - she pauses en route to her door.

Okay, _yeah_, they are mates so technically he kind of is hers but he's not _hers_ hers. They're not like, together or anything. Which is no big deal because it's what she wants - to _not_ be with him because he's an annoying mongrel and she's….well she's Quinn Fabray. She doesn't need a boyfriend, werewolf or otherwise.

Quickly shaking her head of her own internal rambling, she brings herself back to reality and reaches for her door and pulls it open. She jumps back slightly at the sight of Jacob there to greet her on the other side.

How is it that whenever she's thinking about him he suddenly appears out of nowhere?

He straightens his posture at the sight of her while his gaze fits over her clothes. "You changed." he comments.

Glancing down, she nods. "Uh, yeah. You got, well _I_ got, yolk on me. Plus I don't like being in my pajamas unless I actually plan on sleeping."

"Yeah about that. I just came up here to say that I'm sorry that I showed up unannounced with the guys and barged my way into your house." he says, looking into her eyes. "It was really rude of me and I -"

"It's fine, really." she assures with a shake of her head. "I'm used to it. Santana and Brittany do it to me all the time."

"It's just that being away from you really affects me." he presses on, feeling the need to explain his actions. "I'm not usually the obsessive type but with you," his gaze finds hers again and the look he gives her makes her insides flip-flop in a way she has never experienced before.

"You manage to drive me crazy in both the best and worst possible way. I mean I feel like I haven't been able to think straight these past couple days, like at all." he says, laughing slightly.

"You're on my mind constantly and somehow it only seems to be getting worse. And while it's kind of annoying at the same time…" his words drift off into the air but his eyes speak volumes - he's giving her _that_ look again, and lord, she feels so overwhelmed (how is that even possible?) that it makes her feel faint.

Needing desperately to put some distance in between them, she turns around and backtracks into her room. She catches sight of his jacket still draped over her desk chair and without a second thought moves to retrieve it. "Here."

She snatches the article up and pushes it into his chest. "I know what you're trying to do by giving it to me and I don't appreciate it. I don't need you trying to scent mark me or whatever it's called. Just because we're connected doesn't mean I'm yours to claim. I'm a person, not an object."

He sighs. "It's for your protection." he explains, shaking his head. "If you carry the scent of an Alpha any other wolves you happen to come across will know not to mess with you."

"I can carry that message across just fine on my own thanks." she retorts, crossing her arms defensively.

"Just keep it anyways." he sighs, throwing the jacket on her bed. "I don't even need it. It's not like I ever get cold." He looks frustrated - and not just because of the jacket thing - like he has more to say but is unsure of whether or not he should.

"Look, I know this isn't an ideal situation to be in but we need to establish some conditions concerning our relationship."

Her brow arches questioningly; her arms remain crossed. "Like?"

"Like I need to see you on a regular basis, you know be able to talk to you and stuff." he sighs heavily, rolling his eyes. "And yes, I'm well aware of how much you hate me and the very idea of being around me but for the sake of my sanity, just humor me. Please."

She blinks, not realizing until now just how much this whole 'mating' thing was affecting him. Yeah sure it affected her too, but clearly not to the same extent. She sighs.

"I don't hate you, Jacob." she murmurs, her arms falling slowly to her sides. "I just don't like this. I don't like the way you affect me. It's…unsettling to say the least."

After all she is used to being in control of every aspect of her life: school, cheerios, dating…But with Jacob, well the whole basis of their relationship stems from some supernatural force she has no control over acting upon them and deeming them 'soul mates'. An utterly terrifying concept, being powerless against supernatural forces, for someone who makes her living fighting against them.

"Yeah tell me about it." he murmurs, nodding. "But like I said before there's nothing we can do about it." he purses his lips before reluctantly adding rather quietly, "I think we should at least give it a shot. Us, I mean."

Her brow furrows. "So you want to…_date_?" she asks, slightly confused.

He nods. "Yeah, well I mean…my wolf chose you for a reason." he says, his hand coming up to scratch at an invisible itch on his neck. "It couldn't be _that_ terrible, right?"

She shakes her head, smiling somewhat. "No, I suppose not." she says softly, thinking it over. It was just the other day he was asking her out at the bowling alley and she was flat out rejecting him (and punching him in the face) but now, though she doesn't exactly want to admit it, she's finding herself warming up to him.

He's actually a nice guy (for you know, being a werewolf) and okay, isn't _really_ as annoying as she sometimes makes him out to be. He also knows about the supernatural and about her secret which will definitely make things easier - one of the biggest reasons none of her past relationships have ever panned out was because of they were filled with secrets she just couldn't reveal.

Plus he's freakin' gorgeous and a fantastic kisser. And okay, yeah she doesn't _need_ a boyfriend, but that doesn't mean she's completely _against_ the idea of having one. Especially if that one is Jacob.

"Okay." she hears herself say, her gaze lifting to meet his. "But if we're going to give this a try I want us to be exclusive. I don't want you seeing other girls on the side."

Because Quinn Fabray _so_ does not do polygamy.

"That would never happen." he assures. "But the same goes for you. I don't want you seeing any guys either. I might kill them."

She chuckles even though she's pretty sure he was being serious about that. "And another thing," she says, tone back to being serious. "don't think you will be getting sex _any time _soon. I don't care if we are soul mates I'm not just going to jump in bed with you because of it."

"That's fine with me."

She rolls her eyes. "You're a guy so I know that it's not _really_, but I don't care. It's how things are going to go. And I won't stand for you pressuring me. Ever. Got that?"

He nods. "Got it."

"Good." she studies him for a quiet moment before adding, "Also don't expect any big declarations of love from me anytime soon."

"Duly noted. Now can I say something?" he questions expectantly; she nods. "Okay, first of all. Quit hitting me. I get that you're a psychotic Barbie ninja with violent tendencies - and I mean that in the best possible way - but save the hitting and slapping for someone else. Just because I'm a werewolf and it doesn't hurt, doesn't mean I like it."

She nods understandingly and offers quietly. "Sorry."

"Apology accepted. For all times. And for the future incidents that are no doubt going to happen in one of your temperamental outbursts." he smirks.

She can't help but frown a little. "You make me sound like such a psycho." she murmurs, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.

"But a cute psycho." he chuckles, his voice lighter. "Like Itchy."

"Who?"

"Itchy." he replies. "Like, you know from the Itchy & Scratchy show? On _the Simpsons?_" Frowning at the blank look he's getting from her, he sighs. "It's a television show. You do know what a television-"

She can't help but roll her eyes again. "Yes, I'm aware that _the Simpsons _is a television show. It's just one that I've never watched. My parents were pretty strict growing up. I couldn't even watch Barney."

"Wait, what's wrong with Barney?"

"Many things according to my mother." she responds dryly. She shakes her head because damn, it was thanks to her sheltered childhood that she missed out on so many 'normal' childhood experiences. For a couple years she couldn't even go trick-or-treating because Halloween was considered the 'Devil's holiday'.

Anyways.

"Is there anything else?" she questions, wanting to get back on topic. They'll be here all day if they stay on the depressing subject that is (unfortunately) her adolescence.

"Yeah, another thing - I get to go on patrols with you."

You already do that, she almost says, but refrains. Instead she just nods. "Fine. But as long as you don't get in my way again - unlike last night." she reminds, throwing a pointed look his way.

"Hey you're the one that got in _my_ way." he retorts, frowning.

She has no problem scoffing her disagreement. "No, you got in _my_ way. It was _my_ job we were doing and I don't like it when people try and do it for me." she informs, eyes like steel.

"Newsflash blondie: it's my job too." he exclaims, his voice rising slightly. "Vampires are just as much my enemies as they are yours. Hell they're more so."

"That doesn't mean I need you constantly trying to protect me against them. I don't know how many times I've told you this already but I can handle myself. I've been doing this for a while now."

His jaw sets. "So have I." he sighs heavily. "Look, I'm not going to apologize for being protective. It's a part of who I am and it's going to happen whether you like it or not. I can't help it. I'll do my best to fight _with_ you and _not _for you but you gotta understand things aren't just gonna to change overnight. I'm not used to being around girls who are so…"

"Perfectly capable of taking care of themselves?" she supplies confidently.

He laughs, then nods. "I was going to say badass but yeah, what you said works too." He takes another step closer to her and yeah, her heart rate definitely goes up a notch (or two) as the distance between them decreases. And when he leans his head down as far as he can, her breath actually catches in her throat.

He pauses suddenly and pulls back, much to her dismay. "Just to be clear, after this you won't try and hit me, right?"

She shakes her head and ducks her chin a little, embarrassed, her lips twisting in an almost futile attempt to hold back. "Oh shut up." she whispers, cheeks hot, before she grabs him by his shirt and pulls him back down for a kiss.

His hands instantly come up to cup her face while she pushes herself up onto her toes, simultaneously pushing them both into a deeper exchange. She's usually not so brazen when it comes to guys but kissing Jacob is like eating bacon - she just wants to devour him.

And speaking of which, she could also really go for some bacon right now. But that can wait.

Feeling herself being suddenly picked up, she throws her arms around him for stability without breaking apart their lips. (And for the record she's only allowing all this because he just happens to be a really, _really_ good kisser).

She gasps slightly when her back hits her mattress, but because her brain is so way off in la-la land she doesn't really think much of it. She just tugs on his hair and brings him closer. Who knew making out could feel so amazing? Had any one of her exes been able to make her feel this way she probably would have kept them around for a little bit longer.

The things this boy does to her.

Hooking her leg behind his, she promptly flips them over because she's still Quinn Fabray which means _she's_ the one who calls the shots. He pushes himself upright in response, leading her to straddle his lap while both their hands set out to do some more exploring.

Head tilted to the side, she closes her eyes and revels in the sensation of his lips nipping and licking their way down the side of her neck. When she moans out of pleasure, he captures her lips again in a searing kiss - damn near kissing her completely senseless. It isn't until she sees that he's hovering over her that she realizes he had taken the opportunity to flip them back over.

Oh hell _no_.

Taking a moment to distract him, she slowly drags her fingers up and down his chest and stomach, even going as far as to inch up his shirt a little and slip her hand underneath, before getting him on his back once more. She's lucky she has some serious strength otherwise she would never be able to pull it off.

"So damn stubborn." he grunts, gripping her hips and rolling them over again, successfully getting her underneath him.

She doesn't hesitate in rolling them over once more. "You're one to talk." she says, breathing heavily before pulling his face back to hers because well, break time was over.

"Embry's right I am going to have my hands full with you." he groans, his hands sliding down her back, cupping her ass, before turning them over for what he hopes is the final time. Unfortunately there had been no more bed where he was pushing them to resulting in them to crash land onto the floor.

"Ow. Shit." he curses, having landed on his back with Quinn on top of him. She pulls back, cringing slightly. Her hand comes up to push her hair out of her face. "You okay?"

"Great." he sighs, lifting his own hand to rub at the back of his head. "Just a little internal bleeding, you know no big deal."

She rolls her eyes then, after realizing he was _underneath_ her, smiles triumphantly. "I win."

He lifts his head off the ground and casts her a disbelieving look. He scoffs. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"Unbelievably _awesome_." she corrects with a cheeky grin before getting back to her feet. "By the way don't expect _that_ on a daily basis." she says, in reference to their incredibly heated make-out session. "We need to take things slow."

"Yeah I definitely wasn't expecting you to pounce on me." he says, laughter a little strained as he pushed himself back up.

She lifts her gaze from smoothing out her dress and scoffs, slightly embarrassed. "I didn't pounce."

"Oh you pounced." he retorts, smirking. "Like a lion."

"Yeah, well…you're way too tall." she snaps. "You're like a Sasquatch, only with less hair. It's weird."

He looks at her, then bursts out laughing. Shaking his head, he saunters up to her and effortlessly picks her up, his hands holding her just below her backside. "Better?" he says, now literally face to face with her, their noses practically touching.

Suddenly she can't even form a coherent thought. It takes a few seconds but eventually though her motor skills return to her. "Put me down."

"Nah, don't feel like it."

Her eyes narrow in contempt. "You're an ass."

"You're adorable."

She pauses then ultimately gives into her own smile. "Yeah, well I'm not going to argue with you on that." she says, sighing softly.

"So modest." he chuckles, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

She smirks. "I know, right?"

He playfully rolls his eyes and reluctantly sets her back down on her feet. "I'm taking you out on a date by the way." he informs, pulling back a little.

Her eyebrow quirks. "Oh you are, are you?"

He nods, keeping his arms wrapped around her. "You can choose the when and the where but we're going out. I figure it's the most normal thing we can do given our situation."

"God knows I could use a little more normalcy in my life." she responds with a nod, hands settling on his chest (because really why wouldn't they? His chest is all nice and chiseled.)

When she feels him lean into her, she places a finger against his lips. "We should probably get back downstairs." she says softly, even though she would much rather get back to kissing him (looks like she found her new hobby).

"We've got hungry kids to feed waiting downstairs after all." she adds, catching his disappointed look.

"Can't they just make food themselves?" he questions, leaning in again, this time with his sights set on her neck.

She closes her eyes momentarily at the pleasurable contact. "Santana burns whatever she cooks and Brittany, well she's not allowed near any kitchen appliances. Not after the toaster incident of '06." She runs her hand through his short hair before gently tugging him back. "Sorry."

"The guys have money - they can all just hit up the nearest Denny's." he murmurs, his lips quickly reattaching themselves to her neck.

"Yeah, that'll work too." she breathes, slightly gasping at the way his lips moved against her skin. Automatically she brings his face back to hers for another heated kiss.

The two of them quickly lost themselves in the exchange, soft moans and shallow breathing keeping them from hearing her bedroom door open.

"Hey are we getting any decent food this century or what? Me and Britts are this close to bringing out the pop-tarts and microwaving us some tots and you know how lethal that can sometimes get."

Santana, having just realized what she walked in, stops in the doorway and rolls her eyes, exhaling deeply. "Ugh. So much for breakfast." she groans, turning around and pulling the door back along with her. "Don't forget to use a condom!" she calls out before the door closes shut. "I'm too young to be a tia!"

Quinn, now mortified, quickly backs away from Jacob, her cheeks seriously flushed. "Uh yeah, we should probably feed them." she murmurs, gesturing embarrassedly toward the door. "Santana's been known to riot if she's hungry enough."

"Probably doesn't even compare to what three hungry werewolves would do." he responds, reluctantly following her out of the room.

"Oh you'd be surprised."

—

"Thanks for leaving us here to starve!" Quil exclaims as Quinn walks back into the kitchen, shortly followed by Jacob. The wolves and Santana and Brittany were exactly where they left them, sitting around the table - only now they looked slightly disgruntled from hunger.

"Don't act like you three don't know how to cook for yourselves." Jacob says, throwing his pack a look before heading toward the kitchen counter.

"Yeah," Embry drawls out reluctantly, "But man, your food tastes _so_ much better than ours."

"Especially your scrambled eggs." Seth adds with a nod, eyes closing as he undoubtedly pictures said eggs in his mind. "They're like, _the bomb_. Oh man, I'm so hungry." he whines.

Quinn's eyebrow quirks at this and automatically her attention turns toward Jacob. "I thought you said you _didn't _know how to make eggs." she says, eyes slightly narrowed.

"Yeah, well about that…"

Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. "Whatever. Just get back to those eggs, mongrel. I'll start on the bacon."

"Whatever you say, Buffy." he says over his shoulder just as she turns around. She stops and glares back at him, then jabs him in between the ribs. "OW!"

"Don't call me that." she huffs before reverting her attention to the stove behind him.

"See if I ever let you kiss me again." he grumbles under his breath, cracking an egg with ease.

"I heard that."

"Good you were supposed to."

"Remind me again why I chose to date you?"

"Because you can't resist my awesome kisses." he smirks. "And my great ass. God only knows how many times I've caught you checking _that_ out when you think I'm not paying attention."

She tears open the package of bacon and scoffs. "That's absurd. Girls don't check out guys' asses."

"Yeah well _you_ do."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Sorry to interrupt," Santana interjects before she can respond, "But does this oh-so witty banter mean you two are finally together? Or are you two just like, fuck buddies now?"

Quinn turns around and huffs. "Honestly, Santana. Would it kill you to not be so crass?" she questions, exasperated.

"Yeah actually it would." Santana retorts. "Now answer the question: are you or aren't you?"

After sharing a look with one another, she and Jacob nod, each smiling a little. "Yes. We're giving it a shot." Quinn answers. "Seeing how things go."

"Judging by that tongue action I walked in I'd say things were going pretty well." Santana responds with a sly smirk.

"Man, it's about time." Embry comments, leaning back in a stretch.

Seth nods in agreement. "Yeah, we thought you two would _never _get together."

"It took you guys long enough." Brittany remarks, her chin resting against both her fists. "We were _this_ close to cooking up a Parent Trap scheme in order to get you two together."

"And by Parent Trap scheme we mean locking you two idiots in a closet until you finally give into your sappy love feels." Santana says, looking peeved.

Quinn stares at them all, incredulous. They act as though they've had to suffer through this ordeal for ages. "It hasn't even been a week since we've first met!"

"But in dog years that's like seven times as long." Santana explains before looking to the pack. "Right?"

"Totally. Plus Jake was driving us absolutely _insane_ with all the 'Quinn' talk." Quil responds, exasperated. He rolls his eyes. "He _never_ shut up about her."

"Oh don't even get us started with broken record crap Quinn was spouting." Santana exclaims in the same manner. "So freakin' annoying." She looks to Quinn and Jacob, her arms crossed. "You guys owe us like serious restitution."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "We're making it, Santana." she retorts, gesturing to the breakfast they were cooking up. "So unless you want to eat pop-tarts for breakfast I suggest you stop your whining."

Santana frowns unhappily but she sits back, much to her own chagrin. It was only because Quinn makes damn good pancakes.

"Can I ask you guys a serious question?" Brittany asks, looking to the pack expectantly. They all nod their heads in response.

"Sure, Britt." Seth says encouragingly. "Shoot."

Head cocked to the side, Brittany asks in a curious tone, "Is it a weird feeling having something dangling in between your legs or is it like, no big deal?"

Having heard Brittany's inquiry perfectly - just as everyone else in the room had, judging by the sudden awkward silence - Quinn wordlessly puts down what she's doing and begins to search the pantry.

It takes a few, long painful seconds before one of the guys gathers up the courage to respond. "Well…is it a weird feeling having _those_," Quinn doesn't even have to turn around to know what Seth - who she hadn't expected to answer - is referring to. "On your chest?"

More silence which most likely means Brittany's deep in thought, or just lost. "Good question. I -"

"Don't answer that, Britt." Santana sharply interjects. "New topic _now_. Because we're _so_ not talking about my girlfriend's boobs here. Or your guys' nads. Ew."

"See I told you they were _together_." Seth whispers to Embry. "You owe me ten bucks."

"Jacob do you have any abnormal body parts?" Brittany wonders out of the blue, her attention suddenly on him. "Because we were talking last night about how Quinn -"

Lightning fast, Quinn grabs the box of pop-tarts off the shelf, walks around the counter, and sets a package down in front of her blonde counterpart. "Have a pop-tart, Britt."

Brittany can't eat and talk at the same time - not without choking - and it only takes one look at the shiny pop-tart packaging for all previous thoughts to evaporate into thin air.

So that should keep her from inadvertently embarrassing her any further for a while.

Unfortunately for her, Santana is a little harder to distract. "What Britt was going to say before she got oh so distracted," the Latina purposefully flashes a smug grin her way - the girl lives for the embarrassment of others. "Was that Q here has a thing for guys with abnormal boy parts."

Out of the corner of her eye she can feel Jacob looking at her with amusement.

"That's so not true." she whispers to him, her cheeks blushing regardless.

"Pssh. That's nothing." Quil says, waving Santana off. "Jake used to be head over heels in love with a girl who dug on _vampires_."

Jacob's amused expression quickly turns into one of severe embarrassment; She can't help but chuckle at this. "Seriously?" she questions, eyebrow quirked. "You liked a girl who liked _vampires?"_

"Oh shut up. You once dated a guy who had a _Mohawk_. A Mohawk!" he exclaims like it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard.

She can't help but stare at him quizzically. "One: the two don't even compare and two: how do you even know about that?"

"Brittany told me." he says casually, now onto helping her prepare the batter for the pancakes.

She stops and has to do a double-take, her brow furrowing. "What? When?"

"When I was talking to her."

She rolls her eyes and turns around to regard him fully. "Obviously but when _exactly?_"

"I'm not in the liberty to say."

Her gaze narrows into her oh-so famous HBIC stare. "Yeah well you're my boyfriend now _so spill._"

"Your intimidation tactics don't work on me, remember?" he says, his lips breaking into a smile. He chuckles at her expression and leans down, giving her a quick kiss. "Damn you're adorable."

"You know for a boyfriend you sure are impossible." she huffs.

"Yeah, well back at you." he says, his face hovering inches from her own.

"Oh hell. They're at it again." Santana groans from the table, having caught sight of what Jacob and Quinn were up to. "We are _so_ never getting fed."

Brittany turns to her, hand extended. "Pop-tart?"

* * *

**AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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